He works in, I guess you could call it, stripper relations, and he keeps up a steady patter with basically every woman who walks into Magic City, employed there or not.
He is also probably one of the few senior-citizen strip-club managers with a preschool-age child.
City Dollars is 38, wears a woolly chin beard, and has eyes that twinkle from deep in his skull. A hustler and a player and a manager of rap artists.
"Make Sum Shake," the lyrics of which are mostly is by a group called Cool Amerika, a few kids about 20 years old from the suburban hood of Stone Mountain, Georgia—and it was one of a handful of songs that seemed ready to break out of the strip club."You have to be in here every week if you want to do something in the rap game," City Dollars was telling me about Magic City Mondays. Everything Esco touch out here is off the charts."Then City Dollars took some bills from a stack and threw them at a naked woman who was standing in front of us.
When I asked him if he's living When I asked him where he lives, he would say, "I don't really live anywhere, I guess. The rich black people with their muscular metal cars.
My mama house, my grandmama, my baby mama." But I don't believe Yung Stunt was thinking about any of that right now. The rich white people with their slacks and loafers and frail ankles.
Occasionally, City Dollars threw some singles at the naked woman standing in front of us, the way an old man might absentmindedly feed some ducks the crust of his sandwich. One by one the dancers extinguished their blunts and came from their corner, down onto the main floor like crows dropping off a wire to check out some roadkill. The producer Southside, who makes beats for Jay Z and Gucci Mane, and the producer TM88, who makes beats for Young Thug, and Coach Tek, who manages 2 Chainz, and the taciturn guys who travel with the rap group Migos—the eccentric insular little band of rappers out of Gwinnett County, Georgia, who live in a Mc Mansion in exurban Atlanta with their weapons cache and wall-to-wall carpeting. Radio deejays would arrive as well, listening to hear which new songs are And: dope boys who want to be rappers; rappers who pretend to be dope boys; dope boys who just want to be dope boys; the married proprietor of a debt-collection agency, I think his name was Chuck (very nice guy), whose wife gives him a free pass once a month to come and look at naked ladies; a woman in a T-shirt that says "Turning Up Is My Cardio." (FYI: Don't be confused, Rico Richie, an artist trying to make it in the city, was up on the stage now, throwing ,000 while his song played. The unremarkable skyscrapers in their copses at Buckhead, at Midtown. The front porches, the moisture-soaked clapboards, the darkened attic windows.
This particular dancer had on white high-heeled lace-up booties, and she had a special trick. There was a young NFL player in the back, quietly bursting out of a white Henley while showering two dancers with cash. Tomorrow I would visit City Dollars and discover that his auto-detailing business is a black pickup truck with a pressure washer in the bed. The factories where they used to build one thing or another.