Broken trust, a ruthless pimp, and dreams of a better life beyond the Purple Diamond stage.
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Having a mama who loved sex, money, and drugs more than life itself dealt Renae a handful of useless cards.
She was broke, stuck in the slums of Memphis, and at some point, everybody she took a chance on showed her why she couldn’t trust a soul.
The only person she did trust, even though he was her pimp and roughed her up more times than she could count, was Kano.
She met him when she started working at Purple Diamond, shaking ass for the last few dollars a nigga had in his pocket.
Some days she wished she could turn back the hands of time and un-meet him. But most days, she was grateful to have him in her life because, as fucked up as it seems, Kano was the reason she had a hot meal and a place to lay her head every night.
If it weren’t for him, Renae would have been sleeping under a bridge or in her beat up Camry in somebody’s parking lot.
Those were the kind of things she thought about before going on stage every night.
She wished her life was different, and she didn’t have to strip or sell her body, only for Kano to take more than half of what she made that day. She wished her mama would’ve had an abortion, or left her with her dad, whoever he was, instead of letting the system bounce her from one foster home to the next.
She wished she had a real best friend—not a friend like Snooki, who she knew only fucked with her because she could drunk and high on Renae’s dime.
There were a lot of things she wanted and felt like she deserved in life, but every night, she was grateful for the liquor and cocaine that boosted her ego just enough to get through her set, and then back to Kano’s raggedy apartment instead of face down in a ditch like a lot of girls she once knew.
“Don’t fuck up tonight, bitch. You see all these top dollar niggas up in this bitch? That mean you better shake that ass like your life depending on it, or you can be right on the streets like the rest of them hoes.”
Renae nodded her head before leaning in to take a bump from Kano's dirty fingernail. The smell of his hand almost made her gag and spill the cocaine, but she knew if she did that, there would be hell to pay the minute she got off stage.
“Ay,” he pointed toward an NFL player walking inside, “That's a big fish right there. I want you to break him. Make that nigga spend every dollar he got on him. And if he get frisky, invite him to the after spot so we can take care of him.”
Renae turned to spot Kano’s next victim. It was no mystery that he was the grimiest nigga in Memphis, but it was a wonder how no one had killed him yet.
Sometimes Renae wished karma would hurry the fuck up and take him down before he took her, but the harder she prayed for it, the longer it seemed to take.
“Alright, alright, alright! Ladies and gentleman, pimps and hoes, the woman of the hour is ready to take the stage.”
DJ Boog hyped up the crowd for Renae’s debut. If he wasn’t fat, sloppy, and shrimp dicked, Renae might have given him a real chance at love. He was sweet, thoughtful, and always asked how her days were, but she couldn’t get over not being attracted to him. No matter how much he hyped her up.
“Put your hands together, grab your dicks, cups, and wallets cause we got one of the baddest bitches closing the show tonight! Y'all know the name and y'all know the game. Show some love to the one every nigga from here to the major league's come to see! If you broke, stay out the way and let the big ballers and shot callers throw them dollars at Purple Diamond's very own, Spenderellaaaaa!”
The music dropped and the crowd went crazy. On stage, Renae was known as Spenderella—the Purple Diamond Princess. The one niggas left their wives and baby mama’s at home with the kids to come see.
When she was on that pole, she spent like her life depended on it, because most nights it did.
And even though the niggas who spent C-notes on her didn’t know her pimp took everything she had when the curtains closed, they still threw cash and jewels at her, hoping one day she would leave with them.
“Ahhh yeahhh!” DJ Boog growled into the mic as Renae skipped on stage, shaking her bare ass and titties. “You see what I’m talking bout! Now that’s a real bad bitch! A bitch who knows how to work the crowd!”
She was the baddest. Slim waist, perfect thighs, hair down her back, and a personality that was out of this world. No matter how much bad shit life threw in her direction, Renae always kept her spirits high because, deep in her heart, she knew something good would happen to her one day. Even if it took forever to come.
I'll be so glad when I can be done with this shit. God, please, just let me make enough money to move away from Memphis, get a nice crib, and get back in school. That's all I'm asking for right now. I can take care of the rest when I get where I'm going.
She made an exit plan as she twerked, popped, and gyrated on the pole that a dozen hoes before her tried their best to own. She also fantasized about dancing at a club like the Moulin Rouge. She wanted to be a real show girl, not some two-dollar whore dancing for dirty niggas in a run-down club in Memphis Tenneesee.
Her complaints were limited while she was on stage, though. Because the niggas loved her so much, she never made it through the first 2 minutes of her set without the stage being covered in ones and fives.
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