Super Star: Mystic: Super Star, #1

By Simone Qwunta

Mystic Jackson is a superstar stripper-turned strip club owner who is all about her business and will not let anyone destroy what she has worked years to build, including her no-good boyfriend, Orlando.  Mystic will protect The Black Diamond Club and her reputation at any cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Indelible Inscriptions
• Release date: Feb 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393955405

Simone Qwunta

Simone Qwunta is a novelist, screenwriter, and poet who lives, loves, and writes in Chicago.

Book preview

1

Mystic

God Bless The Child

You would not believe the amount of money a strip club makes in one night. Well, maybe you would. If you have seen the movies or read the books, you know about some of the things that go on in strip clubs, and you might know about the money that we make.

I’m so rude. Let me introduce myself. Hi. My name is Mystic Jackson, and I am a dancer and the owner of The Black Penthouse Club. I don’t dance much anymore, though. I started dancing in a club when I was fifteen, and my mother’s boyfriend put me out because he said that I was too grown to live in their house. That was my grandmother’s house that she left for my mother and me. My mother was afraid of him, so she didn’t say a word. She took a puff off of her cigarette and looked the other way. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I slept where I could. My friend, Charmaine’s father, Reginald, owned a strip club and told me if I ever wanted a job, he would be happy to give me one as a dancer. From that point on, Charmaine and I were no longer friends. I think she was jealous. She would never say it, but I know that no girl wants their father to think that anyone is prettier than she is. He always called me beautiful or gorgeous, and he always complimented me on my outfits. Me being me, I didn’t consider my friend's feelings. I took the attention and gloated in it.

I’m thinking about taking your daddy up on his offer of a job. I know I can’t stay here forever.

You got that shit right. You can’t stay here forever. As a matter of fact, I think that you need to be gone in two weeks.

Charmaine rolled her eyes and popped her perfectly glossed lips. Charmaine was a beautiful girl, and most of the girls in school were jealous of her. Charmaine was about five-five with hazel eyes. I don’t know why she insisted on wearing weave when she had a head full of beautiful hair. Charmaine was what boys called a brick house. Her body was tight and right. Reginald had mad money and spoiled her. The girl had Gucci bags and Louboutin shoes before we knew what the hell a red bottom was.

Charmaine’s mother died when she was three. Rumor has it that Reginald killed her and got away with it. Charmaine didn’t talk about it, but she took advantage of his guilt of her not having a mother. Because of her father’s guilt, Charmaine always had a purse full of money.

I think that she chose me to be her friend because some people said that I was prettier than her. I don’t have hazel eyes, but I am complimented on my eyes and how pretty they are all of the time. I also get compliments on my body. We were only sophomores, but we had seniors admiring us and wanting to take us to prom. Charmaine was dating the captain of the football team, and I was dating the captain of the basketball team. We had it going on as far as other girls were concerned. I wasn’t exactly a brick house like Charmaine. I mean, a brick house has tities and ass. I just had an ass. It was a nice ass, though. I wore my hair bone straight back then. I did all I could to get the curls out of my hair. I was always looking to fix something about myself. I can’t say that I had low self-esteem, but I can say that I had low expectations of other people. I always expected the worst and was happy for anything better.

You right. You have been more than a friend. Thank you for letting me crash with you and your dad. It’s time for me to get my own. I will be sixteen next week and should be taking care of myself.

Well, when you see what goes on in the club, let's see how long you last.

I didn’t like how she said that, but I nodded and smiled.

I’m going to have a birthday party for myself in my new place.

You don’t have a new place. You need money for a party and a place. You know that shit ain’t free.

This time I smiled and pulled a roll of money from my backpack.

Where did you get that?

If I tell you, then I have to kill you. Just know that I will be out of your hair by next week. You know you welcome to come stay anytime.

And why would I do that? I have an entire house damn near to myself.

Cool. The door is always open for you, Char.

Uh-huh. Thanks.

The next week I left. I had a driver's permit, so I bought a used car with the money I had left after I bought a fake ID and rented an apartment. Char wanted me gone, and she never looked back when I left. I didn’t look back either. I never asked for anyone's help again. From that point on, everything was a business proposition.

My first-night dancing was hard. I probably did more crying than dancing, but I made up my mind that I would make the money, not let the money make me. I was going to turn this thing into something good and use the money to go to school. I wanted a business degree because I didn’t want to work for anyone else. I wanted to work for myself.