Read Online Salty: A Ghetto Soap Opera (Drama In The Hood) by Aleta Williams - Free Book Online

all. When White-Girl came to the club three months ago she came already trained and with her mind on green. She was schooled years ago by her home girl, Mercedes, on how to get it. Mercedes taught her that green talks and bullshit walks. She told her that when doing anything, do it with a purpose. She worked the club and fucked with a few dudes after hours to help stack enough money to move out on her own comfortably. She had only been out of jail for about a year; she had a little money saved, but not enough to say that she was on her feet. Her guy could think all he wanted that he had a bimbo on his team. She's nowhere near it. She might look like Pamela Anderson but she is far from a dumb blonde. Just like he had her on his team for a purpose, she played for his team for a purpose. Both of their motives are to use the other to make money. White-Girl could have tried to make money on her own, but she felt in a new city: “Home of The Angels”, she needed protection; especially doing what she did. She met ol' boy a few months after she got out of jail. She was working as a waitress over at Roscoe's. She was attracted to him the first day he tried to holler. She always had a thing for black guys and he's attractive so that was a bonus. He got extra points because of his swag; a bad boy with charm. He kind of reminded her of a guy she once loved, a guy that by accident rescued her from the fucked up hand of life she was dealt. Within a year of being with him, his grimy, powder head ass was starting to disgust her and she couldn't wait until she came up with a master plan and or stacked enough paper to get away from him.
     
    In the meantime, he was her “Daddy” and she was not about to allow a sassy, grimy, envious ghetto girl take him from her. That was the main reason why she couldn't stand Delicious. The bitch was disrespectful. It did not take a rocket scientist to know that the dude that picked her up and dropped her off at the club was more than a client. That bitch, Delicious, knew that, she just didn't give a damn and thought that White-Girl would sit quietly and watch her flirt with her dude, whenever she thought he was looking. She was fooled. She learned that when the waitress walked over, handed her dude a glass of cognac and then pointed over at Delicious to let him know who sent it. White-Girl got up from her seat. She slowly walked over to where Delicious was sitting with her friend Paris. She spoke to Paris and Paris spoke back. Delicious acted like she didn't see her walk over to the table. White -Girl walked over to her, leaned down and whispered in her ear,
     
    "That drink you sent over to my man, you’re going to need that to calm your nerves when I'm done.”
     
    Delicious moved her head away from White-Girl and gave her a look that said, bitch please. White-Girl smiled and whispered the words, “I can show you better than I can tell you.”
     
    White-Girl walked over to the DJ booth. She smiled at him. He smiled back and threw his head up. The two was cool, he was the reason the owner gave her a chance to try out and prove that "Whatever a black girl can do she can do it too, if not better." The DJ stepped out the booth and walked down to see what she wanted. She had to want something. She was standing there. When the DJ approached her she motioned him to lean forward so she could whisper in his ear the nature of her visit. She then held up a hundred dollar bill. He looked at her debating if he wanted to risk being chewed out by the other girls or go home with some extra cash. "Money talks, bullshit walks" is what White-Girl thought when he took the bill from her hand. She then sashayed back over toward her table. She made sure she added some spunk to her runway model walk when she passed by Delicious. She grabbed her bag and whispered in her guy’s ear. He gave her a nod and she headed for the dressing room. She walked to her locker, pulled out her key and opened up the locker. "If you stay