21 And Over….

I met my first buyer as an adult at a hole in the wall nightclub on the other side of the town.  It was my 21st birthday, and one of us thought it would be a good idea to go to a bar full of old men, old hos, dope sellers, old school cuts, and good food.

Ok, maybe I was that person, anyways I had on a cute purple skirt with a blue hint to it and a matching tank top.  It was complimented with silver platforms and a fresh hairstyle thanks to my Godmom. I had all intentions to take the outfit back to Nordstroms because I didn’t have money like that ( I don’t recall if I did or didn’t).

I knew I looked good with the exception of my belly, I had always had a gut since I was a toddler. And thanks to people asking me was I pregnant (so rude), I had mastered the art of holding it in.  With 4 of my closest friends, we entered, and as usual, all eyes were on us.  I mean, we all were young and good-looking.  Although this wasn’t our first time at a club, this was my first time using my real ID.

I ordered a triple shot of Hennessey, and I’m sure my homegirls did the same.  We found a booth in the corner and settled in to look at the older folks get their groove on, on the tiny dance floor.

I took mine to the head and asked my homegirl if she wanted to come with me to order some food.  I wanted to eat before the Xstacy hit me.  At the homies house, before leaving, we rolled a fat joint and split one capsule into a minute maid orange juice.  It hard to believe we were sharing 1 pill, but that’s all it took.

No one wanted to come, so I turned to my favorite homegirl, and smiling, she said, “You better be glad it’s your birthday, sis.”

As we made our way to the kitchen located on the side of the building, we encountered a line as usual.  Turning to her I asked her “do you feel it,” “not yet nigga do you?” “Nah, that’s why  I’m trying to eat before it does.”

I turned around to the guy working at the front counter as he undressed me with his eyes, his smile widened to reveal a checker board of gold and teeth. “What you want, young lady, there’s a line behind you.” ” Oh yeah, my bad, I want the neckbones meal with cabbage, rice and gravy, and can I have cornbread instead of hushpuppies?”  “That’s normally extra for the cornbread but since your so cute I’m  a give it to you this time.”  I broadened my smile as I was hoping to get more if a discount.

“Can I get a strawberry pop too?”  “Sure thang like a chicken wang, young lady, that will be 14.99.” 

“You want to share with me?”  “Nigga, you know you gonna eat it all,” she replied and stepped to the counter to order her food.  I moved to the side reserved for pick up orders and tried to make myself smaller because I wasn’t buzzed yet and I didn’t like being stared at.  Soon the older lady called both of our numbers and happily, we headed back to the table.

At the table, the waitress was setting down a fresh round of drinks for us all.  We all looked at each other and then at her, and she pointed to a table on the opposite side of the club in the back filled with men with grey hairs and cigars in their mouth.  “He sent that to you.”  I looked towards where she was pointing and and from what I could see (because I never wore my glasses) a short, Grey haired older man waived and smiled.  Now I couldn’t see him (because he was dark and so was the club), but I could see his white teeth with one gold one in the corner.  I politely waived and mothed thank you.  and sat down.  As soon as I sat down the X hit me, and I began to relax and smile.  My other homegirl was like “Nigga he look like he got money.” “I’m good,” as I made myself eat the food and finish my 2nd triple shot of the night so we could go to the after hours club which was where the niggas I wanted to see was.

We soon finished our drinks and food because we could also see that the local hood rats was also noticing us, and we didn’t want any drama.  As we walked to the door a man gently put his hand on my shoulder.  I turned around to see the guy who had bought us all drinks.  “Hey, how you doing?” Oh good, and thank you for the drinks, it’s my birthday, so that’s what’s up”!  As he smiled again, I became even more turned off by his old ass.  “No problem, my name is Evan,” as he handed me his card, I could see a wrist full of gold links and a watch.  Still not interested, I took the card and walked around him because, like always, my homegirls was leaving me.  “Call me,” he  halfyelled after me.  “Ok,” I said, not even looking back.

After Thought:  The after hours was popping, and me and one of my homegirls stayed on the dance floor until we had sweated our hair out and sobered up.  I ran into my little late-night, who was balling, fine, and great in the bed, and he reminded me of that later that night.  I didn’t plan to call that old man, I didn’t even like him, but when things got financially hard, I thought back to that gold on his wrist, and searched and found his business card, and I called that old man.  And he paid like his old ass weighed for at least a good 7 years, that was until my babies daddy ran him off (sigh). Not only did he pay me but connected me to employment I would not have otherwise had access to, I stsyed in the mall, bills payed, he was a true sugar daddy. He also morally bankrupted me in ways I care not to share, in places I would have never done sexual acts, but that’s life, right? 

It was my choice at that age, and  “what happens between adults, stays between adults, right?”