Snatch (A Dave East Fic)

pinky ring

Havana looked up at the ceiling from her position on her back, feeling the weight of Kevin's skinny and tatted arm, limp over the lower hang of her big brown belly. The multicolored blankets were balled up on an old spinning chair on top of a mountain of his unfolded laundry.

She was sweating. He ain't have no air, just a fan he kept in the doorway that ain't help none to wipe out the mugginess. Havana's whole body was soaking wet. She pulled herself upright, freezing in place as the sleeping man stirred. Studying his dark eyelids and watching his breathing pattern carefully, she waited until she was sure he was still asleep before she moved again. She looked over to the window covered with a big white wrinkled sheet. He was back to snoring.

Sliding from the side of the low twin bed, she stood to her full height of 5'7, pulling on her figure-hugging black dress and pulling her braids up off her neck with the black band on her wrist. Finding her bag, she looked at Kevin once more in the semi-dark room before moving with the silence of the p in pneumonia.

Before she'd fucked him to sleep like a bigass boney baby, she had rubbed a bar of soap on the sides of his wooden drawers to keep them from squeaking in this moment. She pulled the two banded rolls of cash from his drawer along with a rolled blunt for the road. Gently, with steady fingers and fingernails, she worked the clasp of the gold necklace around his neck free, sliding it off and into her palm. She so wanted the gold and diamond pinky ring he had flashed in the club to get her attention. It called to her in the dark. Gently and slowly she tugged at it. His fingers being slender, it was fairly easy to get off. She hesitated on his rolex because she didn't want to risk waking him up trying to slip it past his palm which was flat on the bed. She settled for his Jordans and bounced.
She could sell these things for the money she needed to get by, living the lifestyle she wanted.. and she would...

After a shower and a good night's sleep back at the hotel her white sugar daddy, Alan, paid for.

She hadn't had to do anything but bat her eyes and shake her pierced titties on camera and he put up the money for the flight and the hotel.

"I wanna go see Blueface and YG, I already got the tickets but I don't wanna drive it's so far," she'd pouted. The rest was cake.

She took a long shower, washing the dried sweat off of her plus-sized curvy body, the cool stream refreshing and welcome. After blessing her clean skin with lotion and her face with her nightly moisturizer, she placed her scarf around her slicked edges. Removing her jewelry and storing it on top on the nightstand, she double-checked her door lock and put the desk chair in front of the door, just in case. It was most likely unnecessary, but the way she was was brought up, trust was foreign. She didn't take chances. She ain't trust the people in the hotel nor did she trust the employees. She was one to pack all of her things every morning in a hotel in a specific way so that she'd know if they'd been tampered with.

Closing the curtain, she closed out the city of Seattle. It felt so good to lie down finally and not have some lame ugly man all up and over her. She looked up at the ceiling, covered in a white comforter as the A/C blared giving her a sweet chill.

Luxury surrounds me, she thought with a slight smile. This was definitely the life she deserved. Opulence. Decadence. Peace and fuckin quiet. She closed her eyes to sleep like an angel wrapped in a cloud, dreaming of her childhood.

"GET from round there gal," her mother sneered, top lip spreading thin over her teeth as she yanked Havana by the elbow away from the jewelry box. She dropped the short strand of creamy pearls back onto the vanity.

"Didn't I say don't touch a damn thing? You not posed to be here member, so act like you got some fuckin sense." Her mama released her with a slight shove and fixed her long, black bouncy wig in the mirror, tossing it this way and that, her lime green waist high thong matching the bra she wore. She was petite and toned, a real dancer.

She'd been on her way to Alvin Ailey before she got pregnant then she had to take care of Havana. Havana always felt that by existing she was holding her mama back from being who she wanted to be. She felt it in the way her mama grabbed her and she saw it in her eyes sometimes when her mama would look at her.

"My damn mama would pick tonight to get sick so I gotta deal with badass chirren," she grumbled rolling her eyes. She licked her top teeth up close in the mirror, checking her lipstick and when her stage name was called, she looked back.

"Stay RIGHT here.. and don't touch NOTHING," she growled jogging off to the stage in her heels. Havana never stayed still or did what she was told, she always stood where she could see her mama dance in the glowing lights of the stage. Havana was out of view of the crowd but she saw her mama work the male gaze and make money. When her mama danced, it was like magic and she commanded attention. All eyes were on her.

Havana wanted to be a stripper too. Beauty, charisma, money, and attention.
The other women laughed when she danced in time with her mama's moves, swaying her hips to the music. They said it was cute. They said she was a natural dancer.

She was seven then.