Nothing's quite like the warm country breeze where sunflowers be shinin’ and dandelions be flyin’. The warmth of the people, the southern hospitality was enough to make anyone fall in love and if that didn’t hook you— “ Hey everybodé! I made gumbo! Betta come ova na ‘fore it’s gone!” The food would definitely reel you in. “Wooo that smells good!!” “Kòmon to lem gonbo-sa-la?” “It’s reeeaal good, you keep on’keepin on and you gon be a chef!” “Apprecinate’cha, Unc.”
This was home. The smell of a hot comb raking into the hair of a kinky head gal as the steam sizzled from her scalp. The oil caused her hair to snap, crackle, and pop like a bowl of rice crispies as steamed filled the air while baby girl winced in pain. “Keep still o’ you gon get burned! You want ya hair to look real pretty n’ straight?! Hold still!” She chuckled, Home.
“ Mama! Ma!!! Mama Cazé, We pullin up to the parté right na!! Wake up.” The young girl shook her hastily, they were right around the corner. She awakened and her dreams faded. They weren’t in New Orleans anymore. They’re in the big city now where things seemed to move quickly. How she felt about it didn’t matter, but her girls found excitement in it. Pointing to infrastructures and cackling happily. It made her smark, how cute, she thought.
“Soon as I get out of here, Ima scoop me a cute lil Warlock Zaddy. I ain’ neva been with one of em nem. You know, he gotta know the art of voodoo though, I don’t really wanna esplain everythan. He has to be fit, at least 6’5, cute cut n’ stuff.” One of the young girls boasted as she spun her purple marley twists around her finger. She finessed her hips in rotation, pouched her lips, and cunnied her sly eyes. It was a body language in which they could understand, it was culture. The girls giggled and chattered about their expectations, Mama Caze leaned her head against the window and smiled.
“Many adventures to come, may you all enjoy yourselves. Stick close togetha and with me. They aren’t like what we're used to back in New Orleans, ya hear?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” They hollered.
They arrived. Rolling up with a squad of cars ranging from 6 to 10 vehicles in old custom 1970 Cadillac Coupe Deville’s of different years with tacky paint jobs. Louis Vuitton designs, Gucci, and Fendi designs. Pink n’ glittery 1980 Dodge Chargers with “Boss Bitch” and “Barbie Girl” plastered on the sides of the vehicles. 30 to 50-inch spinners, lifted as far as the eye can see. It was their way of showing out in tacky ghetto cars, Culture. And she? In a limousine, Lexus, gloss black, and a custom sticker on the side of the door. The sticker was a famous celebrity crying with the text “ ( cries in gucci )” next to it.
Pulling up to the front, the car door opened and her girls flooded out of the limousine. They were uniformed, styled in: bolero wide brim hats adjusted how they sought fit and all red gowns. Her guard approached her door and extended a hand, “Coming out, Madam LaCaze?” A gentle hand with long stiletto gloss nails and multi rings that knocked together slid into his.
She exited the vehicle, “Thank you, Lafayette. Have the boys park the vehicle. 10 at the booth in the main room, 10 in the booth downstairs. I’ll be in the main room first while the gals set up.” Her voice was stern and womanly, her southern accent was light buttermilk on fresh biscuits to the ears, calm and charming. A true southern belle.
“ Yes, Ma’am.”
She placed one hand on his cheek and smiled, “ Thank you, Beloved.” She turned to the door of the club and proceeded to enter with her entourage. She entered first, wearing a spaghetti strap cheetah dress that stopped just below her bum; onyx cheetah print leggings with sequins on the design, and red opened toed shoes. She wore a very wide brim cheetah print hat that tilted over her face, but a hole cut into it just for her to see through. Custom made. She observed the people in the building, “How fun ~ ! ” She hollered out as the women were escorted to their private booth.
A large space to fit the lot of them, black transparent veil to give them a sense of privacy and not. An ominous red light cascaded over them, just how she liked it. Two bulky guards with iris like opal stood in front of the booth for their protection.
“ Let’s bop a bottle in ‘ere!! I wanna dance! ” One of the girls leaned over to pop open a bottle of liquor as they cheered on the suds. She laughed a long with them, clapping, and pouring herself a glass.
Madam LaCaze stood to her fit and carefully scouched out of the girls way, “Excuse me ladies. I must explore, but do behave. Ya hear na?”
“Yes, Ma’aaam!”
“Alright now.”
She pointed towards them as a warning, before walking out to explore the establishment.
