I looked around my new spacious two-bedroom apartment and marveled at how far I had come. I had a nice new luxury car, a large apartment, the finest clothes and tons of money in the bank; maybe not tons, but more than I’ve ever had in my life. I was finally living the good life.
I strolled over to my dining room table and glanced at the pictures I had laid out. Each one was personally selected to get started. And while I figured that one other person and myself would be good, I liked each one of them and I couldn’t choose, so I decided to keep them all. Diane was the only one I was iffy about, because she was straight ghetto. I was sure that Diane wasn’t ready to work with the kind of exclusive clientele I was working with. “Come on, Jada,” Diane pleaded when she arrived at my apartment. “I could be a good fuckin’ ho for you,” she said and laughed.
“That’s just it, Diane, I’m not looking for ho’s. I’m targeting a more upscale clientele,” I told her.
“Come on, Jada. I’m tired of dancin’ every fuckin’ night. And I’m so fuckin’ tired of them scandalous-ass bitches. Shit, if could make three times that layin’ on my back, come on, Jada, you gots to count a bitch in.”
“And that’s another thing, Dee.”
“What?”
“You curse too much,” I said.
“What about it?”
“It’s not very ladylike,” I said.
Diane looked at the expression on my face. Then she looked me up and down. “Look, Jada, don’t think I ain’t been checkin’ you out. You changed.”
“I have changed, Diane. But that’s how-” I started, but Diane stopped me.
“Like I said, the way you talk and shit. You even walk different; don’t be lookin’ like you ’bout to fall all the damn time.” Diane smiled and I did too. “You know, I been seein’-you know, how you dressin’ these days and how you carry it and shit, and I’m like yeah, Jada, you doin’ it. So, if that’s what it takes, then you gotta teach me to be like you.”
“We’ll give it a shot and see how it goes,” I said quietly.
Diane gave me a hug. “You watch, Jada, I’ll be the best ho-I mean escort-you ever seen.”
The ringing phone broke up our moment. It was the doorman. “You have visitors. A Ms. Bella and Ms. Simone,” he announced.
The minute I first laid eyes on Bella and Simone, I began thinking about all the money I could make by investing in these two beauties. “Yes, Alfred. Please send them both right up,” I quickly gathered the pictures and placed them in the folder I had nearby.
When I opened the door, Bella strolled in. She was a caramel-skinned beauty with long curly hair, wicked curves, full breasts, and a smile that lit up the room. We met one morning when I was coming in from an appointment. “Excuse me,” Bella had said that morning.
I turned to verify she was talking to me. “I think you dropped this,” she said, holding up a tube of MAC lip gloss.
“Damn!” I squealed. “Thanks, honey. I lose these things like they’re free,” I said.
When she smiled I was like, whoa! “You live around here?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I wish. I was actually trying to meet a friend, but I got lost,” she said.
We grabbed some coffee at a nearby Starbucks where she poured out her life story. Bella told me told me how miserable her life was. She was on the outs with her very repressive parents and had been going from one bad job to no job at all, and was desperately in need of money.
But what I saw in her was spirit. I found her to be a quiet and easygoing young woman with an almost childlike enthusiasm for life. Bella was the kind of person who sought variety in what she did. Bella also told me she had tried to be a dancer, but didn’t go back after she slipped and fell from the stage. “I figured that was a sign that I needed to find a new way to make some extra cash.” She had giggled.
My other selection was Simone. She too had a sad tale to tell about how she desperately needed money. Simone was tall and thin. She was flat-chested, but looked like she was gliding instead of walking. Simone had a short, Halle Berry-type haircut, light eyes and smooth skin. Simone was a stunner who had raw sex appeal and determination. I met her working in one of the boutiques I had frequented with Sasha. She was frustrated after a rude customer had ripped her a new one over not being able to return a gown that had been visibly worn. When the customer stormed out of the shop, I heard her sigh. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this shit,” she had hissed.
I walked over and looked around to make sure her manager was nowhere in sight.
“You could probably make a substantial amount of money if you just used some of your other assets,” I said.
Her eyebrow crept upward, but she didn’t dismiss me right away.
“You a headhunter or something?” she wanted to know.
“I’m not. I’m what you can call an entrepreneur. You’re not afraid to make a little cash and have some fun while you’re at it, are you?”
“I don’t sell or do drugs,” she said.
“I understand.” I slipped her my business card; then slid the stack of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills toward her.
She looked at the money then up at me. “When can we get together?” she asked.
Once everybody had a drink and made themselves comfortable, I explained what we were going to do and how we were going to do it. “The most important thing that I’m going to teach you is how to conduct yourselves in a ladylike manner in every situation. Elegant and classy, ladies, that is who you are at all times.” I stood up and moved to the middle of the living room. “I’m going to teach you how to walk, how to talk”-I looked at Diane and she rolled her eyes-“and how to dress, and how to conduct yourself at any occasion. Knowing what to say and what not to say, will make your company more desirable and therefore, requested on a regular basic.
“Now, I’ve been thinking a lot about this and I realized that Sasha will be working all the CEOs, CFOs, and other suits: wealthy people that are discrete with their money. They don’t have anything to prove to anybody.”
“That’s old money,” Simone said.
“Old money is good money,” Diane added.
“True. Old money is good money, but. .,” I said and paused to emphasize my point, “those people are used to having it and know what to do with it.”
“So what you talkin’ ’bout us doin’?” Diane asked.
I wanted to make Diane repeat that sentence in proper English, but we’d have plenty of time for that. “Our plan doesn’t involve targeting her rich crowd. We’re going to leave those clients to Sasha. She has both a knack and a nose for them.” I also knew I’d be creating bad blood by going after Sasha’s established clientele, especially if I didn’t have to. “Our target group is going to be the new rich: The ones who just stumbled into money; the ones who don’t quite know how to act now that they have it.”
“Ballers,” Diane said.
“I’m talking about music industry insiders, rappers, producers, actors, and movie and television producers and of course-ballers. Now, unfortunately, people like that don’t attend the kind of mixers and events that Sasha’s crowd go to. But they do have their own functions and that’s where we’ll target them.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Bella chimed in quickly.
I fronted them five grand each to let them know I was serious about business. It was like a signing bonus. The ladies and I had spent the next month or so getting to know each other. Bella, Simone, and Diane had spent many nights at my place during our late-night bonding sessions that lasted well into the early morning hours.
Sasha and I still met once every couple of weeks to catch up, but for the most part, I was either shopping, which the ladies all excelled at, or hanging out with one or all of the ladies. In my mind, these little outings were all training sessions.
After one of many shopping trips, I walked in the bedroom while Bella was on the phone. “Well, if that’s how you feel about me now, I guess I have no choice but to make it on my own,” I heard her say into the phone before sniffling. Before I could tell what was going on, Simone came rushing out of the bathroom with a wad of tissue.
That’s when I realized Bella had been crying. She turned and I noticed her bloodshot eyes.
“What’s wrong with her?” I whispered to Simone.
She walked over to me, leaned in then whispered, “She’s been fighting with her family for nearly an hour now; something about them not wanting her back home.”
“But I. .” Bella managed before breaking down and sobbing again.
I looked over at Bella who was crumbling on the phone. I walked over and slowly removed the receiver from her shaking hand. I placed it back into its cradle and took her into my arms.
“My mother called me a streetwalker,” she sobbed onto my chest. “She said she never wants to see me again,” she added.
I rubbed her back. “We’re your family now, don’t worry about it,” I told her.
“Her parents are devoted Jehovah Witnesses-you know, like they go door to door and all,” Simone said.
“I just didn’t want to follow the faith,” Bella said.
I stroked her back. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, we’re your family now.” By the time I looked up, Diane had walked into the room. I didn’t know how much she had heard, but I could tell by the look on her face that she agreed with my statement.
“If your parents don’t want you because you don’t want to go door to door, you ain’t ever gotta worry about them again,” Diane said walking over to us.
Bella finally pulled back and looked up at me.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.
I looked at her, moved hair from her face then said, “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You have nothing to be sorry about.” I looked around the room. “I know everyone here agrees, we don’t ever have to worry about feeling left out, or like we don’t belong. By the time we’re done, we’ll rule this town.” For the first time since I walked into the room, I realized that we were at a turning point in our relationship If things went the way I planned, our little close-knit family would be unstoppable.
“Thank you, Jada,” Bella said sniffling. She turned away from my embrace. “Thank you all,” she added. We enveloped her in a group hug and laughed at ourselves for being so emotional.