Scandals

by Sasha Campbell

Genres: African American Women's Fiction

Synopsis

When it comes to sizzling urban drama, Sasha Campbell is at the very top of the game. In Scandals, Monica Houston is a newly divorced mom who makes ends meet as an exotic dancer at Scandalous, the hottest club around. But if the ex finds out, she runs the risk of losing her kids. Meanwhile, sexy dancer Robin Wright thinks she might be in over her head when her sister is sent to jail and her nephew is thrust into her care. Unprepared for this new role, Robin finds herself falling for the kid's "big brother" even as she tries to prove her sister's innocence.

Release date: January 6, 2015

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Six months earlier

“You want me to do what!”

I was practically shouting and had every reason. I was even seriously considering popping somebody upside their head. The only thing stopping me was I suddenly remembered where the hell we were.

I glanced around CJ’s Café just to make sure no one was eavesdropping on our conversation, and to my relief, the only people looking at me all cockeyed was the couple at the next table. Hell, I didn’t mean to be loud and even tossed an apology in their direction before I focused my rage on the chunky chick sitting across the table from me. There’s no way in hell Reyna had just said what I thought she said.

“I’m serious, Monica. Look at this,” she insisted and had the nerve to stab the newspaper with her index finger.

I shifted my eyes. “Reyna, I’m not looking at that! I can’t believe you set your lips to suggest something like that to me.” My best friend had lost her mind. “Are you fucking crazy?”

Reyna blinked and then had the audacity to act like it was no big deal. “It’s not that bad. I even considered it once in college. I know you could do it.”

I sighed silently to myself. “I’m not even about to have this conversation with you.”

She blew out a heavy breath, then rolled her eyes at me. “Damn, Monica, you act like I asked you to rob a bank ... like we about to set it off up in here.”

“Shiiiit, what’s the difference?” I hissed and leaned back against the seat. I should have known when Reyna asked me to meet her for lunch, she had something up her sleeve. And to think I’d been having one hell of a day.

Fridays were the only mornings I didn’t have class, and with the girls in school, I decided to finally do something I’d been considering for months—I got a haircut. I let Sonya, a stylist at Forever You, chop off the hair that once hung to the center of my back. For two hours I was practically in tears, certain I had made a big mistake until she swung my chair around so I faced the mirror. Sonya was heaven sent. She had given me a short layered style that took off almost ten years from my face. You’re probably thinking, what’s the big deal? Well, listen when I tell you, cutting my hair was a hard decision for me. For years my hair was my strength. I was like Samson. I thought I was weak without it. But I realized the only thing that made me weak was my ex-husband Anthony. Too bad it took his sorry ass leaving for me to finally figure it out.

As soon as I left the salon, I went to meet Reyna for lunch and strolled into CJ’s Café with my hips swaying. I couldn’t help but notice several men checking me out. I guess the black wraparound dress I was rocking looked good hugging every curve on my body just as I had hoped it would. The attention definitely made it worth the money I spent on the outfit. Some dude even had the nerve to try to get my attention, but I blew him off. Not that he was ugly or anything. It’s just that the last thing in the world I needed was a man. All I wanted was to know that even though I was a thirty-year-old mother of two, I still looked damn good. The attention was definitely my stamp of approval. When I finally reached the booth at the far back corner, I was feeling sexy, then Reyna had the nerve to fuck everything up for me.

Our waiter returned with our salads and iced teas. Reyna waited until he had moved on to the next table before she tried to rationalize. “Listen, Monica, all I’m tryna do is help you find a job. You’re the one who said you weren’t asking Anthony for shit else.”

Damn right I wasn’t. I’d rather clean the floor of the café with a toothbrush than ask that bastard for a dime. I was willing to even get a job standing on the corner holding up one of those stupid Everything Must Go signs. I would do just about anything except beg my ex-husband for money ... and the shit Reyna was suggesting. “You’re right. I meant it when I said I’m not asking him for shit, but just ’cause I said that doesn’t mean I’m ready to sell my body just to earn a dollar.”

Reyna laughed like what I said was funny when in actuality I was dead serious. “Monica, it’s stripping, not prostituting,” she said a little too gleefully.

“Hell, they’re the same damn thing,” I snarled at my friend, then stabbed my garden salad with a fork.

“No, they are not,” she said nonchalantly, then shrugged. “In fact, Scandalous is a pretty nice club. I’ve been there a few times.”

“A few times?” Lord have mercy. That girl never ceases to amaze me. I shook my head and gave her a pitiful look. “What were you doing ... auditioning?”

“Noooo,” she said like something was wrong with the idea. What’s up with that? Apparently it was okay for me to strip, but heaven forbid I assume she had. “It’s nothing like that.” Reyna gave me a wicked grin and took a bite of her salad before she continued, “This dude I used to mess with had this thing about taking his date to a strip club. Something about it turned him on to have his woman watching the dancers along with him.” Reyna had this faraway look in her eyes. Damn! I couldn’t believe she was taking me with her ass on a ride down memory lane.

Reyna then leaned in close. I guess she didn’t want anyone else to hear what she was about to say. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear it either. “They even have a swingers section upstairs, and we went up there and got our groove on. Monica, girrrrl, having sex in the balcony while staring down at the strippers on the stage ... oh my goodness ... it was better than a porno tape. I don’t think I ever came that hard in my life.”

I leaned back in the seat, trying to put as much distance between the two of us as I could manage. “Nasty ass.” I shook my head because I should have known better. My girl gets off on all that crazy shit.

“Monica, you act like you’ve never done anything freaky in your life,” she said with a disapproving look on her face.

“I have ... at home ... with my husband.” Reyna would never believe the things my husband used to make me do. Hell, I still had a hard time believing it myself.

“Seriously ... I wasn’t trying to piss you off. It was just a suggestion ... a quick way to make some money ... that’s all.” Reyna tried to act like her feelings were hurt, but I wasn’t buying it.

I reached for my iced tea and stared at her cocoa-brown face over the rim of the glass as I spoke. “Well I’m not interested in auditioning at Scandalous. I’ve got two little girls. What would they think if they knew their mother was taking her clothes off in front of a room full of horny men?”

“They won’t know. The only two people who’d know are you and me.” She shook her head like I was being ridiculous when it was Reyna who had lost her damn mind. “Some weave, false eyelashes, and colored contacts ... nobody would know it was you.”

“Absolutely not.” I scowled. She tried to reason with me, but I stood my ground. “Dammit, I said no!”

“Okay ... fine.” Reyna threw her hands in the air in defeat. “Then what are you gonna do about money?”

If anyone had told me a year ago I would be sitting in a café with my best friend trying to figure out how I was going to keep a roof over my head, I would have laughed at them. Back then I was Mrs. Monica Houston, the wife of Anthony Houston, the hedge fund king and one of Richmond’s wealthiest black men. I’d been living in a big-ass house in Chesterfield with a maid and a gardener. Back then couldn’t nobody tell me my husband was messing around on me. I loved that man with everything I had and was confident he felt the same. So when he announced he wanted a divorce, I swear to you, I didn’t see that shit coming, especially since we had just spent a week in Jamaica, screwing like two teenagers on spring break. That bastard waited until our plane landed in Richmond before he broke the news.

After that my life spiraled out of control, and here I was a year later, a black woman with a limited education and almost no work experience trying to figure out how to make everything right in my life for the sake of my two beautiful little girls, Liese and Arissa. The money the courts awarded me was barely enough to maintain the lifestyle we were accustomed to. In fact, if I didn’t figure out a plan soon, I was going to find my ass on the street.

“There has to be another way.”

Reaching across the table, Reyna touched my arm. “There is. We just have to figure out what it is.” I looked at her and nodded even though I was starting to lose faith. “What I don’t understand is how Anthony can be so damn stingy. Those are his daughters. As much money as that bastard makes, he should be glad to help you out at least until you finish nursing school.”

I love Reyna for always having my back, but she should know it was always his way or no way, and now that we were divorced nothing had changed. I couldn’t blame anyone but myself, because I had allowed him to control me all those years.

I remember when Anthony and I first met. I was a freshman and he was a junior at the University of Michigan. We fell in love overnight, and when he graduated and asked me to return with him to Virginia, I gladly dropped out of school. I had every intention of continuing my education, but Anthony proposed and promised to take care of me forever. Shortly after we arrived in Richmond, Anthony landed a position with a large hedge fund corporation, then Arissa was born and Liese a year later. I was happy just raising the girls and taking care of my husband. For eight years that was all I knew. Like I said, I never saw it coming.

I snatched the Richmond Post Dispatch up from the table and stared down at the help wanted ad. Exotic dancing? Hell no. I cut my eyes at Reyna, then focused on the ad below it. “Look! Mason’s needs a waitress to work the evening shift.”

“On Crater Road?” Reyna gave a rude bark of laughter. “I guess so. Some dude was shot and killed in their parking lot last week.”

Ms. Know-It-All. “Okay, what about cashiering?”

“Puh-leeze, you can’t live off minimum wage.”

Whatever. “Ooh! JCPenney’s is hiring sales associates.” My head popped up and I stared across the table and grinned. Reyna knew I loved shopping at that store.

She frowned. “They’re hiring for the morning shift, and last I checked, you were in school. That is ... unless you’re planning on dropping out.”

Reyna knew better than that. Just like the new haircut, enrolling in school was my way of proclaiming my independence. Nursing had always been a dream of mine. After the divorce was final, I enrolled in a twelve-month accelerated LPN program. It was intense and hard work. I had classes in the morning and barely had enough time to study before picking up the girls from their after-school program. But in less than seven months it would all be over.

While I finished my salad, I scanned the ads and saw a few possibilities but ended up feeling increasingly frustrated. “To be honest, Reyna ... I really don’t know how I’m going to juggle school, the girls, and a job.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Reyna said, trying to reassure me. “How about working twelve-hour shifts on the weekends at the hospital?”

I shook my head at the idea. “No. That’s the only time the girls and I have to really spend any time together.”

“There is always the evenings after they go to bed,” she suggested.

I took a moment to think about it. “I would be too tired for class in the morning.”

Reyna leaned back on the seat with a sigh. “Okay, then what about Friday, Saturday, and Sunday? You don’t have classes on Fridays.” She must have seen my frown because she added, “Seriously, Monica, the only option you have is to find something you can do in the evenings or weekends. You know I have no problem watching the girls.”

“Mmm-hmm, but how many jobs are out there like that?”

“I already suggested one and you weren’t interested,” she mumbled under her breath, then had the nerve to stare at her hands like she was looking for chipped nail polish.

That chick better be glad I loved her, which was the only reason why I hadn’t reached across the table and snatched those kinky twists outta her head. She was, after all, my best friend.

We met at First Baptist Church of Virginia on Decatur Street my first year in Richmond, and had been tight ever since. She had gotten a degree in business at Virginia Commonwealth University and three years ago opened her own boutique. Reyna was doing everything she had set her mind to, and unlike me, she hadn’t let a man stand in her way.

“How about working at UPS tossing packages late in the evening or the early morning assembly line at Kraft?” she suggested.

“Maybe.” Neither sounded like something I really wanted to do, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers, and with limited skills I definitely didn’t have many options. The only job I ever had in high school was McDonald’s. Trust me ... flipping burgers was not even an option. My eyes traveled over to the ad again. Exotic Dancers needed. Goodness, was that what my life had come to?

“If I was your size, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

As freaky as Reyna was, she was probably right. See, the problem is Reyna’s a big girl. When we first met she was probably wearing a sixteen, but over the years, especially during the stress of opening her own boutique, she started packing on the pounds and was wearing at least a twenty-two. Not that it stopped Reyna. She was a strong believer of you’re as beautiful as you feel. Well, as far as Reyna was concerned, she was the hottest chick within a hundred-mile radius. Even now she was sitting with her legs crossed, swinging her foot in the aisle. As usual she was dressing her ass off, wearing a blue jean miniskirt complemented by a fire engine red corset, a jean bolero jacket, and matching five-inch pumps. She didn’t let her weight stand in the way of looking good. I’ll give it to her, style was one thing she knew a lot about, and she wore it well. I guess that’s why she owned Reyna’s Couture, the hottest boutique in all of Petersburg.

“Monica, you got one helluva body. Men would go crazy over your ass.”

I appreciated the compliment, but friends were supposed to say that. “Yeah, right,” I said with a laugh. “You know I don’t have the guts for that shit.” I still couldn’t believe that heifer had suggested such a thing. She was the freaky one, not me.

“Hey, it’s good money. My cousin Dawn used to strip, and she made a thousand dollars a week.”

My brow rose.“A thousand? Just to take off her clothes and shake her ass?”

“Yep,” she confirmed with a nod.

Her words went straight to my head, and I took a moment and tried to see myself on stage, doing exactly what she was suggesting, then realized how ridiculous it sounded. I gave her a dismissive wave. “Reyna, puhleeze. I don’t even know why I brought it up again. You know I’m not about to take my clothes off for anyone but my man.”

“Yes, but you don’t have one of those,” she teased.

“Thanks for reminding me,” I said with attitude. Reaching up, I stroked my fresh new cut just to remember I had something to feel good about. Reyna had a lot of nerve. Hell, she couldn’t keep a man.

“Seriously, all jokes aside, you could do it. We can come up with a stage name for you like Juicy or Dimples.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Juicy and Dimples? Mmm-hmm, that would definitely describe my ass.”

Reyna chuckled. “Hey, that’s what men love. A black woman with a big ghetto booty! And you definitely have enough for the two of us.” I couldn’t help but laugh because she was right about that. I had plenty of junk in my trunk. “But who in the world wants to watch a woman with little titties trying to dance?” I was flat-chested just like my mama. Reyna had a pair of triple Ds that she played up in corsets and low-cut blouses. It was the one thing I was most self-conscious about. If I could afford it, I would get a boob job in a heartbeat.

“You got enough. What Anthony used to tell you ... that more than a mouthful is a waste?” she reminded me with a wink.

“That asshole said a lot of things. He also said he’d love me forever, but you see where that got me.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. A migraine was coming, I could feel it. It was all the stress of wondering if I was going to be able to pay my light bill next month. That’s when I felt someone standing over me.

“Excuse me, sexy. I couldn’t help but notice you when you first walked in. You have the most amazing legs.” My eyelids rose and I almost jumped from the seat when I found a dude at our table with bread crumbs clinging to his matted salt-and-pepper beard. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he asked politely.

Is he for real? I glanced over at Reyna and wanted to laugh. I could tell she too was struggling to keep a straight face. “No, I ...” I couldn’t even finish what I was about to say because at that moment he smiled and I noticed his jacked-up grill. “I don’t think so.”

“Then can I have your phone number?” He smiled flirtatiously as his eyes quickly ran over my body. Did he really think I would go out with him? Instead, I was two seconds away from cussing him out. Even if I was dating, I never would have been that desperate.

“Hey! Didn’t my girl tell you she’s not interested,” Reyna said with attitude in her voice. He took a step back, looking embarrassed. I guess he finally got the message because he walked away and returned to his table close to the front door. Reyna tried to hold it together but as soon as he sat down in his seat, she burst out laughing.

Leaning across the table, I murmured, “Ugggh! He’s got a lot of nerve, looking like Grady from Sanford and Son.” My comment made Reyna laugh even harder and I couldn’t help but join in. We had tears in our eyes. I glanced to my left and made sure he hadn’t heard us making fun of him. Puhleeze. He had already forgotten about me and was standing over another table trying to holler at some light-skinned chick. I watched as her head started moving while her neck twisted, and it was pretty obvious she was giving him straight attitude.

When Reyna finally stopped laughing, she said, “Now that’s the type of men dancers up at Scandalous have to deal with, but the beautiful thing is you make a brotha pay for wasting your time.”

The conversation was right back where it had left off. My girl never did know when to quit. I guess it’s my fault for bringing it up. “Reyna, I already told you I’m not working at no strip club.” Just the thought of taking my clothes off in front of a bunch of strangers made my stomach turn.

“I could pick you out some really cute outfits from the boutique and teach you how to walk in stilettos.” I swear she almost sounded like she was pleading with me. Damn! Was my girl trying to live vicariously through me?

“Reyna ... girl ... quit dreaming and listen to me. I am not stripping.” I said the words real slow and controlled just so she’d know I meant what I said.

Pouting, she finally leaned back on the bench. “Hooker. I should have known you didn’t have it in you.”

While we ate our lunch, I noticed Reyna was still looking down at the newspaper. Exotic Dancers needed. Something in my gut told me that until I found a job, this wouldn’t be the last time we discussed the subject.

I heard my cell phone vibrating in my purse on the floor and released a sleepy groan because I knew what time it was. Time to get the hell up outta here.

Slowly, I slid out from under the heavy arm draped across my naked body, then reached down for my purse and carried it into the bathroom with me. While I peed, I pulled out my cell phone and read a text message from my homegirl, Honey.

I was instantly wide awake and shuddering with excitement. Making money was what I do best, and I wasn’t about to miss out on a prime opportunity to get paid. Last week I bought myself a brand-new Camaro. Candy apple red and fully loaded. I still had to pay the taxes on that bitch and needed every dime I could get. Trust and believe, I was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.

I reached for one of the washcloths hanging on the towel rack. It felt hard as hell, but what do you expect to find at a cheap-ass motel that let you rent by the hour? I conducted the sniff test and was relieved that at least it smelled clean. It took almost thirty seconds before the water ran hot. I lathered the cloth real good with that tiny bar of soap and ran it across my entire body. The last thing I needed was to walk into Scandalous smelling like another man. Chris had been wearing Armani Mania tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that scent. However, it smelled better on him. I was almost done drying off my body when my phone started vibrating again. I reached down and glanced at the number on the screen before I answered. It was Honey.

“Treasure, where yo ass at?” Her shrill voice came booming through the phone. Honey was trying to talk over the laughter and loud music in the background.

“Ho, I’ll be there in a minute. I had to make some quick money.” I tried to whisper just in case Chris was on the other side of the door listening to my conversation. Hopefully not, because I was definitely tryna sneak out before this sexy muthafucka woke up.

“A’ight, but hurry the hell up. Everybody’s asking for you.”

Of course they were. Unlike most females, I knew the power I possessed between my thighs. It was my treasure chest. And I used it to my advantage every chance I got.

“Uh ... by the way ... Mercedes is up in here hating on yo ass.”

I sucked my teeth rudely in the phone. Honey thought she was slick. The only reason she’d mentioned Mercedes was because she knew I couldn’t stand that bitch, and hearing she was hating was only gonna make me break my neck tryna get down to the club.

Mercedes had been trying for months to gain the spot as the baddest entertainer at Scandalous Gentlemen’s Club, but so far no one had been able to still my shine. And as far as I was concerned, they never would. “You make sure you let that skank know I’m on my way.” I ended the call and tossed the phone back into my purse, then stared at my reflection in the mirror. After a long night at the club I looked like shit, but it wasn’t anything a little makeup couldn’t fix. I never lea. . .