Dirty DNA (G Street Chronicles Presents)

by BlaQue

  NiQue felt as though I should be watching the streets and definitely watching Papi. I wasn’t even worried about him and his shit. I was ready to go and get my high on. Partying was the mission for the evening. No one was going to stop my flow! Not even Papi’s hating ass.

  After taking a bath in my over-sized bathtub and softening my skin with my favorite Bath and Body Works scent, Cherry Blossom, I put on an emerald green thong and bra set. Then I slid my apple into some dark blue, low-rise jeans. My fresh Kush Girl tee-shirt had the words, “Got Green?” and a large weed plant on the front. My green boots, purse and my signature shades set my outfit off right.

  I called NiQue’s slow ass, and headed towards my car. It seemed like I couldn’t do much of anything without smoking a J, and I had two rolled. One was for the ride over to NiQue’s and the other was for the ride to the club. I hopped in my Caddy, turned my Ipod to my favorite playlist; and Devin the Dude, and some dude named Bobby Ray, reminded me of why smoking weed was therapeutic.

  I rode down Wisconsin Ave and bucked a left to hit M Street right through the heart of Georgetown and all of the shops. The streets were lit up like it was Christmas; inviting tourists from all over the world. Georgetown was mainly for the wealthy white folks and tourists who just had to take a piece of DC home with them. What those same tourists didn’t know about Drama City was that there was a whole different world once you got to the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue. Once you crossed Potomac Avenue, life was different. This side is where all you could get from a vendor was little baggies containing a crack head’s dream and all the other shit that kept my pockets thick.

  Once I made it to NiQue’s spot, I was a little hesitant pulling into her row house in Trinidad. I knew I had some shit in my glove compartment that would sound off real lovely against a nigga’s temple; but my conversation with Papi was clouding my mind like the thick smoke that filled my car. I shook off the bad feeling and stepped out of the car into the cool fall breeze. Walking swiftly, and taking note of everyone around me, I made my way to NiQue’s door. I instantly heard Wale’s remix of “Pretty Girls” playing; and I knew NiQue was not ready to ride out. I rang the bell and was greeted by Ed, who was NiQue’s brother’s security. He was just like family because he worked for NiQue’s brother, and on occasion would travel with Daddy too when he required extra man power.

  “Hey Ed.” I said giving him a hug; one that lingered a little too long in my opinion. I knew Ed had a thing for young girls, but I was hoping he knew where to draw the line. I pulled myself away from him and headed towards NiQue’s second floor. I could feel his eyes following my ass as it swayed from side to side while I climbed the stairs. He was just like any other nigga in the street. NiQue was inspecting the finished product in her full-length mirror when I reached her room.

  “Bitch you are gonna wind up late to your own damn funeral!” I laughed.

  NiQue jumped damn near across the room. She hadn’t heard me make my way up the steps because of the music pumping from the speakers that were housed in the ceilings and walls of the upper level of her home.

  “YaYa, you scared the shit out of me! Announce ya’self next time!” She said trying to laugh off her fear. That’s the kind of shit you went through when you grew up with families like ours. You were constantly watching your back and expecting the unexpected.

  “Stop being so damn scary acting.” I said taking a seat on the foot of the bed.

  “You need to be the one jumping around and shit with Papi gunning for your ass.” NiQue laughed nervously.

  “That sorry excuse for a hustler called me today on that bullshit. He was acting like he owned the fucking world and everyone in it.” I rolled my eyes.

  “You are gonna’ have to handle him because he isn’t gonna just go away quietly. Did you try to reason with him?” NiQue asked me while she was applying her MAC lip gloss.

  “What do I look like trying to reason with him when he ain’t nobody to fear? Fuck him. He is just making noise; trying to be heard. Are you ready to go yet? Crack said he has a spot in VIP for us. I am trying to go out and find my balla’ baby!” I said smacking my ass while I wiggled it like a pole dancer. NiQue grabbed her jacket and what she called her “goody bag.” That was her bag with her never ending supply of Xtasy pills and already rolled Backwoods.

  “Let’s make it!” she said and we headed out the door.

  We pulled into the already packed parking lot of G’s night club. I had deaded the last of the J we were pulling on and we exited the car. The line was wrapped round the building and heading clear down the block. I sure was glad that I had a nice cushy spot in VIP, and happy that I didn’t have to wait in line because I don’t do that “waiting” shit either.

  I pulled my shades down over my grey eyes and strutted towards the bouncer who was clowning some kid who was trying to get into the club in boots and street wear. The kid was doing everything but promising the burly bouncer a blow job. I strolled over to the bouncer and he waived me and NiQue through after checking his list. When we got inside, the club was packed and it was standing room only from wall to wall. We made our way to the third level of the club and I found our reserved table.

  The waitress came with a bottle of Patron Anejo and two glasses. She let me know that Crack said the drink was his treat and that he would be over to check me out later. The waitress poured the Patron and placed the bottle back in the bucket of ice. I never could understand how a nigga could drink ice cold liquor. I pulled the bottle out of the ice and sat it on the table. I could tell NiQue’s “Candy” had kicked in because she was standing and swaying to the music that was booming off of the walls. I was feeling lovely from the piff we had sparked on the way to the club.

  I saw Crack and his wife making their way towards our section. They were destined to be a power couple one day. He exuded power and his wife, Queen, was strong. I guess you have to be strong having a mate like Crack who was chasing his dream and wasn’t gonna stop chasing until it was his reality. Looking at the two of them made me wonder would I ever have love like theirs. Once NiQue realized we weren’t alone anymore, she tried to straighten up because a sister was fried!

  “YaYa”, Crack said as he moved to hug me. “Glad you could make it out. Finally got you to come out and see what I have been doing with myself all these years! You know my wife Queen; don’t you?”

  I smiled and extended my hand to her. Nice to see you again.” I said, admiring her style. She was dripping in ice. I could tell Crack was doing lovely. His wife was laced in some hot shit I had never seen before.

  “Oh, and this is my friend NiQue.” I said motioning towards NiQue.

  I could tell NiQue wasn’t interested in the introductions because she gave them the universal nigga head nod and started bopping to the music again. Wale and TCB were pulsating through the speakers with their song, “Ice Cream Girls.” If you weren’t from Drama City you couldn’t appreciate what Go-Go had to offer.

  Crack asked me to join them as they made rounds through the club. NiQue said she was fine chilling in our cushy spot. She was good as long as she had that bottle and her “goody bag.” Crack introduced me to all kinds of people he had invested his money in. I mean, he had rappers, actors, and even some authors who wrote that made-up shit about the streets and the so-called struggle. He had endorsement deals, and was promoting his artists’ new albums: “Tha Kushilation,” “Heat for Tha Streets,” “KillZone,” and he was working on a project called, “No City for Old Men.” Crack was making money hand over fist, and it was all clean money. He even had a company called, “The Kush Boys” who had offered him sponsorship through their Hemp iced tea called, “Chronic Ice.” The music changed again, but to a mellower tune.

  “Aye YaYa, what do you think about this song? This is one of my newest projects, “Mama’s Moonshine.” They got that Neo-Soul, Hip Hop thing going on. They are based out of Atlanta.

  I nodded my head in approval. They were straight flowing and singing; it was
some great “get high music” to say the least. It was on some Erykah Badu meets Andre 3000, and instead of making babies, they made music. I sat thinking of how I could make some of that legal money when Crack broke my train of thought. I looked up into the eyes of the most beautiful specimen of a man I had ever laid my eyes on. He was about 6’3” and had long red dreads that hung down to his waistline. I stood to make his acquaintance.

  “YaYa this is Dread, one of my most promising artists. He’s been in this music game for a minute. They call him, “Dread the Old Head.” This nigga tells a story with the wisdom of a nigga seventy-five years young; with a delivery better than any of these youngin’s on the streets or the radio.

  I immediately felt my middle moisten. He shook my hand and I could feel the electric spark between us. The nigga was straight off the streets. I could tell he was used to introductions like the one Crack made, and he was definitely used to bitches throwing themselves at him. I could feel him sizing me up. I had to control the shit dead in the tracks before he made the mistake of thinking I was a hood rat.

  “Dread what makes you so different from all the other rappers trying to make it?” I asked him just trying to make conversation without seeming thirsty. Dread turned to Crack and had the nerve to laugh at my question.

  “Look baby girl, none of these bubble gum, rapping ass niggas got nothing on me. What you think I’m gonna bitch-up and start Souljah Boying out here? I can show you better than I can tell you why I’m going to be the King.”

  He gave Crack a pound, kissed Queen’s cheek, winked at me, and started making his way to the lower level of the club towards the huge stage. Queen was the first to break the silence, she damn near fell over laughing.

  “YaYa, don’t take him too serious baby girl. He is a hot head by nature. He truly is talented though.” she said still giggling. I am glad she saw the humor in the way he had come off on me.

  It must have shown that I wasn’t used to being carried by dudes before. I could feel my temperature rise. It was rising for the wrong reasons though. I got off on the fact that the nigga thought so much of himself. It made me want to mount up and ride his ass into the fucking sunset. I heard the crowd going crazy on the lower levels. I stepped closer to the banister to look over the crowd below. On the stage was the object of my temporary desire. Dread was rocking back and forth to the bass line of the song, and then he broke out into the hook of the song which was, “Get Me Don’t Shit Me.” The crowd was losing their mind; screaming the words to the song while Dread ripped the place apart with his lyrical genius. The shit was amazing to see a forty-something rapper doing it way bigger than any main-stream artist to date. He told a story with the swagga of Biggie, but was on his grown man shit like Hova’.

  I couldn’t believe I was lusting after a nigga who didn’t even realize I was fucking street royalty. I pushed him to the back of my mind when NiQue caught up to me. Home girl was sloppy drunk and was being escorted over to me by a few cats I knew from Trinidad. NiQue was staggering and clinging to the banister for dear life.

  “Girl, did you hear how that nigga was ripping the mic?” NiQue slurred. She was partying to her own melody in her head and was real touchy feely because she was trying to rub a hole in my arm. That Xtasy had her on a different planet. I could never figure out why she felt the need to chase that kind of high.

  “Yeah girl, I heard him.” I said trying not to show her how excited I was about meeting him and hopefully seeing him again on a more personal level. Don’t get me wrong, I had met some folks in my life time thanks to Daddy and all of his dealings, but this nigga had piqued my interest, or at least for the time being, and then it would be on to the next. That’s just how I did things. Foxxy Brown said it best, “Fuck um, check, and on to the next!”

  NiQue and I made our way back to our seats after trying to get through the wanna-be’s hawking to get into the VIP area. The lights dimmed again, signaling the start of another performance. Dread had taken his place on the stage followed by the rest of Cap Citi and the KushBoys.

  “Aye this is why Imma’ be King Shawty.” Dread spoke into the mic. I knew he was directing that statement towards me. I watched as the performers mesmerized their audience. The big projection type screen was playing the video to the Cap Citi Kush Boys hit song, “Gucci” which featured the actor Jackie Long on the track.

  I wanted a piece of Dread and I was going to have some of him. He just didn’t know it yet. We were partying hard and doing what NiQue and I do best –tear the club up. We were barely able to make it back to our table when I saw my worst nightmare enter into the VIP section of the club. Before I could even turn to try and go unnoticed, Papi walked right into me. I could feel my pulse quicken and I wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety of seeing him or if it was the gallon of liquor I had sloshing around inside of my stomach. Before I could even think of a way out of the inevitable confrontation, Papi was dead on me.

  “Aye YaYa. Long time no see.” He said coldly. “Is this the way you treat every dude you get with? Fuck him, steal from him, and then try and act like he doesn’t exist?”

  His eyes were squinted and I could tell he had had one too many drinks too. That mixed with my obvious distaste for him was making for a bad showdown. Fuck the Wild West. It was about to be on and popping and there really wasn’t much to stop it either.

  “Papi, this is not the time of place for this shit. I am warning you, not tonight!” I tried to walk off calmly like nothing had happened. Apparently, Papi was not going to look like he got played in front of his boys or anyone else for that matter.

  “Bitch, you owe me! And now it’s time to pay up hoe!” He said, grabbing my arm. NiQue sobered up enough to know that it was about to get ugly.

  “Wassup Papi? I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?’ NiQue said with her eyes darting back and forth trying to locate help.

  “NiQue mind your fucking business. This is between me and YaYa.”

  Papi yanked me towards the entrance of the club.

  “NiQue, I got this. I am just gonna go and talk to him and settle this shit.” I said, not knowing who I was trying to convince – her or me.

  In all actuality, I had no idea how I was gonna handle the shit that was about to go down. I was unarmed and I could be walking out of the club to my death. Papi pushed me out into the cool, summer night air, and took my hand so no one passing by would be aware of the trouble that was coming. He led me to his car and demanded that I get in.

  “YaYa you are gonna give me my money if you wanna live.”

  I got into the passenger side and Papi drove off. I had no choice. I was defenseless and my only way out was in the glove box of my own car. I couldn’t believe I had gotten caught slipping. If I had listened to NiQue, I wouldn’t have been out in the first place and I definitely wouldn’t have been in the company of a scrub ass nigga like Papi. The ride towards Baltimore was in silence and I silently prayed that God was listening to my prayers. Papi pulled in front of his home and told me to get out. I slid from the car and slow stepped up the walkway. He opened the door and pushed me inside. Once inside he flipped on the lights, but the whole scene had changed. There were four armed men, two of which were familiar. The two men I had seen in Papi’s house before were there again, and apparently they weren’t invited to whatever Papi had planned for me.

  “Buenos noches. I take it you aren’t happy to see me Papi.” One of the men said.

  Papi started backing up to the door from which we had just come. I could tell the situation was going to get worse. I tried to figure out how I could out of the shit my pussy had somehow gotten me into.

  “Juan, I got your money son. This bitch right here has what I owe you. She is the reason I haven’t been able to make the math right. This shady bitch has moved into my arena with her father. They are the ones you should be after, not me!” Papi stammered trying to get out of whatever he had gotten himself into.

  I must admit it wasn’t looking too good for me,
but it damn sure wasn’t looking good for Papi either. That Juan character didn’t look like he cared about what Papi was saying. He motioned for me to come to him. Papi was reluctant to let me go, being that I was his shield. If that mutha fucka let off a shot, I was the only thing protecting Papi from getting smoked in the foyer of his own home. Papi released the grip he had on me. He must have felt like by telling Juan and his goons I was the cause of the money being funny would ensure him his life being spared.

  “Chica, are you all he says you are?”

  I looked Juan in his eyes and could tell he was about his money. He didn’t give a fuck about me or Papi. He just wanted his money. I knew that either way things played out, I wasn’t gonna go out like a bitch. I took my stance. “I only took what was there for me to take. He left it out there and I took it.” I stated with an attitude.

  Juan cracked a smile. “I like this bitch. I knew there was something special about her the first day we saw her. She got balls. I knew she couldn’t just be fucking with this lame nigga for nothing.” He chuckled at his own joke. What they didn’t know was that I had been fucking with him for nothing. His betrayal is what caused me to fuck Papi on his block. It was me being mad for being used. It was just a minor mind fuck which had turned into a great big fuck you. Now, I had plans on fucking Papi big time.

  Juan laughed and stepped forward towards Papi. “Well, I see your dick has caused you a problem chico. You got caught slipping and a chick is the one who has you by your balls. Damn homie, did you ever think you would be caught like this? Now, I am going to ask you one more time. Do you have my money? Before you answer, don’t gimme no more excuses about your bitch here having it, or her being the cause of you not having my money.” He said pointing at me.