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Wesley didn’t have that, so I understood the anger. When I saw it from that angle, it made all the sense in the world why he decided to hang the phone up on us. Shit, I would have hung up too.

CHAPTER 15

DEJA MCCOY

“She’s a hustler, baby,”.

That was all Amaya had to sing into the mic, and the crowd went ape shit crazy. It was one of her best songs, honestly. Us women loved it. She made it for us. She talked her shit for all of us women around the world. The song has been one of her most popular songs since she dropped it earlier in the year. It made all the sense in the world why she’d chosen to sing it last. The build up for her to perform this song was highly anticipated.

The arena was pitched black. Before she started the song, she gave strict instructions for everyone to pull out their phones and shine their lights. I stood on the side of the pole, looking ahead of me, seeing little white lights filling the dark arena. I was scared shitless. I usually had all the confidence in the world, especially when I was on the pole. The pole was the one thing that I knew I could do right.

I wasn’t home though. I wasn’t in my stomping grounds. Hundreds of thousands of eyes were getting ready to be on me, and that’s the part that freaked me out. I’d just gotten off the phone with my man not too long ago, and Wolf did everything in his power to calm me down. It worked, but the second I was brought out onto the stage, my nerves were fuckin with me again.

“Take em’ to the crib, Too!. Show them how we do it in Miami,” I could hear my auntie’s voice replaying in my head.

She’s been telling me that all evening. She knew I was nervous, and just like Wolf, she’s been giving me words of encouragement, reminding me exactly who I was, so that I could go out on stage and give it my all.

“I said, she’s a hustler babyyyyy. A woman hustler….

Amaya’s beautiful voice crooned through the speakers again. There was no beat. No instruments playing. Her mic was on, and you could hear her thick British accent, as she sang that first verse on the song. Her voice gave me ammo. I needed to hear that voice because all of a sudden, it sparked something in me. I put my head down for a quick second, asking God for the millionth time today to not let me fall.

I was ready now. I went ahead and placed my hands on the pole, tightening my grip. I was at least thirty feet above the stage, and the crowd didn’t know I was here yet.

“A woman hustlerrrrr….

The spotlight was on me now. Directly on me, and then the beat dropped. The beat dropped, and just like I rehearsed yesterday when I got here, and all morning and afternoon today, I went ahead and flipped my body upside down on the pole, removing my hands, and sliding down. Screams echoed throughout the arena, once they saw what was going on.

My entire body dropped damn near the entire length of the pole, but just before I was a few inches from the floor, I stopped myself. That dog that lived in me, that I brought out each time I hit the stage was released.

Like I was back home in Miami, doing the shit that I loved, I swung around the pole once. I did it again, needing to build up that momentum. Right when I was where I wanted to be, I released my body, falling into a handspring. I held my entire body straight out, away from the pole, showing the strength I had.

I knew that there were so many eyes glued to me, and so many phones out, recording me. This performance was going to make the blogs. The haters wanted to see me travel thousands of miles away to London and fall on my ass. I couldn’t go out like that.

As I was showing out like this, doing all kinds of crazy shit on the pole, I was constantly talking to myself in my head, telling myself that I better not fall.

All the while, I’m on the pole, doing these tricks, Amaya sat centerstage, her butt parked on a stool, singing about a woman hustler. This song resonated with what was happening in my life right now. Amaya sang about a woman having her own, getting to the bag, and not sitting around, waiting for a nigga to take care of her. Here I was in London. This little ghetto girl from Miami was in London, upside down on a fuckin pole, getting paid to do what I was great at. I was the true definition of a woman hustler.

I was completely out of my body right now, as I climbed up the pole again. I went higher and higher, placing a tighter grip around the pole. Once I reached the top, I moved my legs sexily, as if I was walking through the air. I did that for at least ten seconds, showing off the upper body strength I had. I dropped my body again, sliding down headfirst. The vibration from the screams were so loud that it felt as if the stage was shaking. I did all I could on this pole. Flipping. Spinning. Dropping, and hitting splits.

I knew the song was coming to an end, so I had to throw out all my best shit. I did a couple of tricks that I knew would drive them crazy, but here I was, working my way to throwing out the final one. This was the big gun. One of the most dangerous tricks to pull. Most dancers didn’t throw this out. My aunt, who was the same beast of a dancer as I was back in her days wouldn’t even pull this trick out on stage. She’s practiced it before, but never performed it, out of fear of falling. Out of all the times I could have pulled this trick out of the bag, you would think I would do it back at home while I was in the club, and not in front of all these people.

I felt like being dangerous tonight, so I went for it. The trick was called the Rainbow Marchenko. I had to position my body correctly around the pole. Fans were screaming, more than likely excited to see what the hell I was getting ready to pull off. I went ahead, stretching my back, keeping my hands locked onto the pole. I curved my body around, going in a position that showed just how flexible I really was. I held it for at least five seconds. Doing it until my muscles were literally screaming at me, telling me to stop before I broke something.

The way my body was contorted around this pole, it didn’t look humanly possible. I pulled myself out of it, and right when Amaya hit the last note, I slowly slid myself down, finishing out my performance. I got a standing ovation from not only Amaya, but from the crowd too.

“Ya’ll please, please give it up for Poison. That’s Miami’s finest right there. That’s the queen of the pole,” Amaya screamed into the mic. People started screaming my name. All you heard was…

“POISON! POSION! POISON!”.

Spotlight was shining right on me. Like I was shy and couldn’t bear all these people looking at me, or crying out for me, I put my hand up, smiling and waving at them.

Amaya came over and gave me a tight hug. One of those hugs where you rock your body back and forth. She thanked me again for coming out and performing with her, and then I rushed off stage, so she could have her final moment with her fans.

The second I made it backstage, the entire production was screaming, coming over to me, giving me hugs, telling me how good of a job I’d done. I found myself getting a little emotional. There was so much love I was receiving to the point that it felt like my body couldn’t handle it. Once that was over, I removed the ear-monitor, heading back to my backstage room.

“Toooot!” my auntie came rushing down the hall, getting to me.

Even in the six-inch pumps she was rocking, she was able to run over. Her eyes were red, so I could tell that she’d been crying. I could see it all in her face that she was super proud of me.