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was go to the kitchen, get a metal bucket, and put my champagne on ice. Next, I went upstairs, changed the cotton linen on my king-size bed to a new set of white satin sheets, pillowcases, and Euro shams. I stuffed the white duvet with a white down feather comforter, then opened two bags of clean cotton potpourri. I spritzed my bathroom with the calming fragrance of home sweet home.
    The doorbell rang. Trotting downstairs, I welcomed in the locksmith, gave him instructions on rekeying every lock throughout my home. While he did his job, I sat on my sofa. Soon as he left, I lit a few candles, drew my bathwater, undressed, stepped into my sunken tub, leaned back, and relaxed.
    For Blake Crystal, a self-centered, unapologetic lifestyle was starting right now.

CHAPTER 7
    Alexis
     
     
     
    T he parking lot at Pin Ups strip club was packed.
    A dozen premiere reserve spots were on the first row. Twenty dollars to occupy a space in the front. Ten in the back behind the building. Either way everybody had to park their own shit. Big Z moved one of the orange cones. I zoomed in my convertible, raised the top. Getting out of my car, I grabbed my pink Michael Kors bag, then gave Big Z a hug.
    “What’s up, Alexis? You looking fresh as always. When you gonna make that happen?” Big Z asked, holding my hand.
    He’d been trying four months to get Chanel and me to double-dip on his dick. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to taste my chocolate-cherry-colored punany. He’d have to fall in a line that extended down the block and round the corner. Long as he kept giving me VIP for free, I’d keep stringing his anxious ass along. Walking toward the flashing sign with the club’s name in neon lights, I told Z, “I got you.”
    “Yeah, but when?”
    I blew him a kiss. “When the time is right. I have to get my gurl to say yes.” Opening the door, the cashier motioned for me to enter the club. She’d stopped hitting me up for the ten-dollar cover after I started dating Chanel.
    The pool table room on the other side of black metal bars facing the entrance had a few guys hitting balls. There were female dancers grinding on the laps of men and women for twenty dollars a song. I never lingered in there mainly because no one inside that area could see any parts of the stage.
    I made my way to the bar, stood at the end watching two performers. The girls here were not lazy like some I’d seen at Magic City or laid back like the ones at Strokers. The Pin Ups were in full effect every night.
    “Here you go, sweetheart,” the mixologist said, handing me a mai tai. Peaches didn’t need to ask if I wanted my usual. I never deviated from this drink at this club.
    “Thanks.” The tab was eight but I gave her a twenty to include my next cocktail, then I strolled to VIP where the round black tables and vinyl chairs were dining height.
    The stage was eye level, which meant the higher the girls climbed the poles the more I had to tilt my head back to see them. This VIP setup was intended to accommodate lap dances during the show.
    I sat at my usual corner table next to the stairway the dancers used to enter and exit the stage. In case some dumb shit jumped off I was in position to snatch my gurl and get out.
    The identical twins, Kandy and Karmella, were cleaning the gold poles in preparation for their routine. They tossed the rags to the back of the stage. Soon as the first beats to “Turn Down for What” came on, one quickly ascended a pole to the lateral bar near the ceiling, tossed one ankle over the bar, kept the other leg around the pole, then started rubbing her pussy as though she were masturbating.
    “Hey, Alexis. What’s up?” the security guy asked. “You looking tasty in pink tonight.”
    “Thanks, Big Norm. I see you got your sexy on,” I said, adjusting my halter a little lower.
    “When you gon’ call me, woman?” he said, scanning the room.
    “Grad school taking up all my extra,” I lied.
    “I’ma let you have that.