“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.
7
Two months into my self-employment gig and business was very slow. As a matter of fact, business was a bit too slow. We were for the most part, living on my back. I still had my regular clients. When I had an appointment or when the client would allow it, I would send Bella or Simone. Diane was still a little too ghetto for prime time, but she was working hard. I had thought about doing some work for Sasha, until she informed me that her fee had increased to 51 percent since I was now direct competition.
“It’s just business,” she said, then sipped her Mimosa.
I couldn’t fault her, but talking with her gave me an idea. Working with Sasha, business was steady because of her clientele and connections. But now that I was on my own, maybe I needed a different approach.