"Oh my God, that was one hell of a nightttt. God bless and restore these niggas empty pockets because they gon need em again tomorrow" Jadah laughed as she lifted up her two trash bags full of bills into the air above her.
( 𝘫𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘩 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 : @𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘢 )
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In the heart of the club, hidden from the prying eyes of customers, was a sanctuary for only the dancers. The room, bathed in a soft, warm glow, was done purposefully by Jasiah to contrast to the strong bright lights of the main stage. The couches offered a comforting embrace after hours of performing. The air was filled with a mix of perfume and the faint hint of sweat, the evidence of the night's work. This was their haven, and most of the time they would be in here more than they would be in their own personal dressing rooms where the same comfort was established, but for the most part they got along fine and wanted each other's company being that some of these girls saw each other more than their own families.
When the night was over, they would spend their time in the room counting the bags of money they collected from their performances. Some sitting in the floor counting with their electric money counter, others sitting on the couch or stationed at a vanity. They would talk about the drama that occurred throughout the night, like how their private show went, if the man was ugly, or if he was desperate and attempted to press more than just a harmless dance, which occasionally would need Roman's security assistance.
"Okay yall. I'm going to the washer, yall need yall money washed? I'll dump it in but I ain't responsible fa drying it na" Mercedes chewed her gum, her two bags thrown over her shoulder in one hand as she looked around for answers from the other girls. They washed their money, money being a silent carrier of bacteria after being passed through countless hands and other body parts before reaching them. From just dirty hands in general, to witnessing money being pulled from another woman's lower half or wrapped around a man's shaft in attempt to make the girls reach for it.
"Nah I don't need no bitch putting her hands in my bag when I ain't looking" Connie shook her head, her response causing Mercedes to cock her neck back with a mug on her face before looking Connie up and down.
"Trust, I'm the last bitch digging in yo bag, bookie" Mercedes blew a bubble from her gum, popping it as she gripped the neck of Jadah's bag who handed it over to her. "See, real recognize real" Mercedes smiled at Jadah before she turned away to walk out of the room.
Mercedes, she stood out, not only for her attractiveness, but for her authenticity. Unlike a few others, she wasn't drawn to the drama or the gossip that often filled the room. She would listen, but never had an input, because she didn't really care. She didn't wear a mask or adopt a persona, what you saw was the real her. Her dance was a reflection of her soul, raw and unfiltered.
