Bubbly Champagne Dreams: Dreams of Getting Up, #1

By Ty Khea

Kierra Williams will do anything she has to do in order to survive. She falls into a life of stripping and turning tricks to keep her head above water, but she's ready for a good man to charge in and make her his queen. When fly boy, Adonis, rolls through, she thinks he's the one to save her, but all Adonis wants is a piece of the sexy dancer and tries his best to evades all her attempts to sink her claws into him. Her friend Brandi, is also playing the survival game and itches to be swept off her feet by a man since she's not getting it from home, but she isn't as good at the game as Kierra.

Drama, betrayal, and violence ensue as everyone try to claw their way to the top. Will they all get what they desire, or will greed be their ultimate downfall?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ty Khea
• Release date: Jul 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386440444

Book preview

One

Kierra

They said no one ever really escaped the hood. I was starting to believe it, as the depressing scenery flashed outside my car window. Shabby houses and impoverished kids strung out on the street side wasn’t exactly the vision of hope. My mood darkened when the Opyum Lounge came into view and I turned into the parking lot. The building stood as a reminder of the hell I wanted to escape. That’s what it felt like sometimes—like I was in hell with no hope of clawing my way out. I parked my piece of shit hooptie in the employee’s section of the lot and killed the engine, cringing when it let out a long, tired huff. My cheap-ass death trap was going to give up on me any day now, and Lord knew I didn’t need the extra financial stress.

With a sigh, I grabbed my handbag and stepped out, not bothering to pull down my skintight red dress that had ridden so far up that a good portion of my ass cheeks were on display. You know what they say—if you got it, flaunt it…and bitch, I had it. My come-fuck-me black strappy heels clicked on the pavement, as I sauntered to the club’s entrance, oozing confidence like I was on a runway.

It was pretty early, so the lot was just about empty except for a group of boys chilling beside a Cadillac that looked no better than my crap piece of metal. They could have been customers, eagerly waiting for the action to start inside, or idle hoodlums up to no good. All eyes turned to me when I passed, and immediately, choruses of Damn baby!, You lookin' fine, girl, and I’d like to get a piece of that sexy ass rang out.

My lips curved into a seductive smile, and I looked over my shoulder as I climbed the cracked steps. You want a piece of this, then save your dimes and nickels and come see me inside, boys.

There was another string of compliments and a few hell yeahs, as I walked through the door. The moment it closed, my smile dropped, and I rolled my eyes. Fucking niggas look like they’re still sipping breast milk, I said to no one in particular.

Yet, that was what it had come to, scavenging for customers. Shit man, how long was I going to be shaking my ass and turning tricks at the Opyum? Yeah, that was what I did, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do to survive. There wasn’t much else to do in Jackson, Mississippi for a girl like me, a high school dropout, who wouldn’t be caught dead in a fucking McDonald’s uniform or any shit like that.

With my flawless, dark skin, pretty face, and killer body, I decided to use my assets to survive. Plus, I liked dancing, and I loved sex. I loved the power it gave me over men; I loved the way they’d do practically anything to get a taste of me. I just wished I was fucking for fun, not out of necessity to make ends meet.

I strolled through the dimly lit lounge and headed to the door that led to the back rooms. I didn’t get far before I heard, Kierra! Watch it back there.

I froze, then turned to see Brandi Joyner hurrying toward me, wearing a frown. Brandi was the cigar girl, a pretty thing with her caramel complexion and generous curves. She was a hit with the men, prancing around in her short, tight little outfits, offering cigarettes and cigars along with some ass.

Hey, girl. Why? What’s up?

Brandi heaved a sigh. Girl, shit went down just before you got here.

I shrugged. When doesn’t shit go down in this joint?

I’m talking serious shit, Kierra. Some dudes broke in here while we were setting up. It was just me, Corey, and Jamal here when they barged in. I hid with Jamal behind the bar and listened while they slapped Corey around. They were part of some gang, according to Jamal. Shit, girl, I don’t know too much about what went down when they went around back because I stayed my ass out of sight. I wasn’t trying to get shot. I did overhear one of them demanding control of the club now that Brenis is gone though.

I stared at Brandi, wide eyed. Damn, shit really did go down. The mention of Brenis touched a sore spot. I kind of missed the old bastard. He was the owner of the Opyum Lounge and a decent boss before he passed away.

Everything had gone to shit after him. Not that the hood of Jackson was some kind of paradise before, but no nonsense went on in the club when Brenis was running things. Sure, he was heavily involved with a gang, but he kept all that away from his business for the most part. Now, we had gang activity, drugs, and all kind of greasy shit taking over the Opyum. The place had even become a target for frequent police raids, and I wanted no part of all that mess.

That’s crazy. Where’s Jamal’s punk ass now? I couldn’t believe the bartender had hidden behind the counter like a pussy while Corey got his ass kicked. Hell, should I even blame him? Just like me, he probably wanted to keep his nose clean, earn his bread, and get the fuck out of there. Plus, Corey was a major dick, so maybe he should get his ass kicked more often. Problem was, we were going to suffer because I’m sure Corey was pissed, and when Corey got pissed, he got nasty.

He’s around back, avoiding Corey, Brandi said. You should, too. I just wanted to warn you; he’s on the warpath.

I see. Thanks for the warning.

Oh, one more thing. Corey said he wanted to meet with all of the girls later.

Oh, fuck. I closed my eyes and massaged the bridge of my nose.

What?

Whenever Corey called a meeting, it meant somebody was about to get canned. With the way things were going, he probably had to let people go. Brandi, you know what that means, don’t you? When she stared at me blankly, I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the bar. If all that shit just went down, and Corey suddenly wants to meet with just the girls, it can only mean one thing.

Brandi shrugged. He wants to explain what the break-in was all about and who those guys were?

For fuck’s sake, Brandi. One would think you were still an innocent, clueless church girl, instead of a street-smart woman from the hood. It means some of us bitches are about to get cut, fired, kicked out on our asses. I don’t know about you, but I need this shitty job. I could have easily guessed that the dudes that showed up were a part of the same gang Corey was involved with. The dumb nigga thought they’d just leave him to do his own thing. I made it my duty to know what went on at the Opyum. A girl had to play it smart, and information was everything.

Brandi’s eyes widened. Damn, I don’t want to lose my job either. What do we do?

What we do best, honey. I rushed around the bar and grabbed a bottle of dark rum before grasping Brandi’s arm again to pull her toward the back.

What are we doing?

"Just follow me. I’m going to make sure the two of