Damn, this bitch is always killing my vibe.
Not being able to keep my eyes off the whip intended for me, my hatred for the back-stabbing bitch I once called my best friend grew. I wanted to—naw, I needed to get back at her for double-crossing me.
I had to admit Zaria had her A-game on and was looking all right, especially just having a baby and all, but she was still trifling. As she got out of the car and started walking past everybody in line as if we were supposed to bow down to her, getting revenge sooner than later was a must! Fighting back the urge to reach out and smack the taste from her mouth, I watched with envy as Zaria switched and floated right past me.
That rotten bitch. I know she saw me and flossed extra hard. Fuck her. It was everything in my power not to trip her stanking, man-stealing behind.
“Hold my spot down in line. I’ll be right back,” I announced to my clique. Too caught up in their own quests on pulling a meal ticket, they nodded nonchalantly, never missing a beat. I couldn’t blame them for their thirst, however; mine was real too.
Zaria was too caught up in her popularity parade to notice me walk right past her toward the valet’s reserved section. Waiting on the attendant to lock and leave her car, I snuck in behind him, pulling out my handy box-blade. Not choosing to go out with revenge the traditional way by fucking up her paint job, I began to unscrew the license plate from its place, making sure to stay concealed from oncoming traffic.
Since Zaria’s car was backed in, giving me the perfect dark place to conduct my business, I had the plate off and tossed in the nearest dumpster within sixty seconds flat. Being from the hood, being a quick sneak was my craft. Being that it was a Saturday night in the D, the hot boys were out heavy, looking for drunk and illegal drivers. I’d just made sure my nemesis would stick out on their radar for sure!
Going unnoticed, I popped back into line. We’d inched up and were closer to the entrance. Even though I felt a little gratification for the sheist I’d just pulled off, I was anxious to get into Floods and make my presence known. Me and Zaria had not had a real chance to cross paths, but I wanted the ground underneath her feet to rattle at the sight of me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nardo
“So, are you ready to floss on these broke clowns and act a fool? We got one up on these sucka-ass lames in the streets. It’s our time to shine.” Izzi swerved in and out of lanes, recklessly coasting through traffic up Interstate 75. “I don’t know about you, my dude, but I’ve been banking on that nigga shaking hands on our deal.”
“Trust it’s on. Once my manz pushes that weight our way, it’s gonna be double-up time. I’m about to buy the bar out fa sho’.” Mad love was getting ready to go down at the infamous Floods. Everyone in attendance was about to drink top-shelf and pop bottles with their crew.
“That’s what I’m talking about. It’s a fucking celebration for our team. Let’s get it!” My right-hand man was lit, but still tilted back his personal bottle of 1738 like a skilled alcoholic.
“It’s about to be a flock of groupies up in here tonight, bro. Are you talking ’bout adding to yo’ roster?” Izzi questioned, sliding the now empty bottle underneath his car seat, exiting the Lafayette ramp. Greektown was banging, with bumper to bumper traffic heading to the casino, restaurants, or, like us, the nightlife.
“Naw, I’m straight. My starting line-up is going crazy, and a nigga ain’t got time. I’m trying to be one hundred with Spice anyway. She’s got class, and once her pops gets with the program, she’ll have cash to hold a nigga down. Once I train that Jamaican ass on how to fall in line and put that mouth on ice, we’d be the next Jay and Bey, but in the drug game,” I joked, pulling out my brush, getting my waves on point.
“Yeah, I hear you. But until then, I wouldn’t advise you getting on baby momma’s bad side. That shit can prove to be fatal, ya feel me?” Izzi played the role like he had kids or the problems I had with Zaria. Instead of buying diapers, his ass was pitching abortion campaigns to jump-offs he rammed in the hood.
“Nigga, please. Ain’t nobody worried about Zaria’s all-talk and no-action-having ass. Like I said, it’s all about Spice now.”
“A’ight, man, be easy. That’s on you. As your ace, though, real talk: Zaria ain’t no bum bitch. How are you gonna play your hand once cats try getting on?” He posed a question I’d never thought twice about.
Ol’ boy caught me off guard with that one, knowing good and damn well I was not really ready for Zaria to dip out on a brother totally. I wanted that pussy a few more good times at least. Plus, needless to say, a brother had to admit the thought of someone else getting all of her love, devotion, and attention had me a little unnerved. Friend or not, I had to keep my front up. “Again, I ain’t worried. Baby momma ain’t about to put another player up, trust!”
“It only takes one real cat to show her the light.” He called himself joking, but I held onto his words. Izzi was talking extremely bold to be speaking about my baby moms.
“Oh, yeah? Well, since you know word on the street, drop one that I’m lighting all contestants looking for a chance at that.” I showed my hand, clearly not giving a fuck.
Izzi burst into laughter. “See, that’s why yo’ ass should quit talking shit. You ain’t really ready to let Z go. Don’t shoot the messenger, nigga.” He realized how tightly cringed-up my face had become.
“I ain’t got no beef with the messenger as long as he sends my word back with vengeance to the hood. Zaria is off limits.”
“Ha! My nigga, you a nut! I feel you, though. If you ain’t having her, no one else can. I got you, though. Trust and believe that.”
His word was golden with me. Izzi’s reputation was pristine, never going against the grain or giving me reason to question his loyalty. It was no question about it; hands down, Izzi would set them wanna-be-me-ass niggas straight. The only thing I was left thinking, however, was why didn’t he do that in the first place? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was trying to check for Zaria himself. Naw, he didn’t want my chrome plate to his dome. Road dawg or not, shifty disloyal niggas got no respect.
Izzi was lit and loud as we walked through the club. Riding dirty in his cocaine-white Range Rover and 24-inch rims, the music was blasting “I’m so hood!” drawing attention and stares. Izzi had the porno playing on the back flat screens as a calling card he was on that tip. You could see the look of dismay on some chicks’ faces, but some looked even harder.
Leaned all the way back in my chair, keeping a low profile, I left Izzi to stand out. Even though I was not trying to take no eye candy home, a nigga had to look! There were all type of females—tall, short, skinny, and fat—in line with their best outfits on. I might’ve been caught up in a lie; I might’ve been looking for an additional jump-off to fill the time while Zaria was on punishment. And even though my girl Spice was doing the Amazon on a nigga in bed, leaving me sprung doing double backs, variety was even better.
Of course, it was the usual hating bums who we’d shut down in the streets throwing hate, and the cats who were on our level trying to floss boss on some competition shit, but it was nothing to us, ’cause we stayed with the better hand. And once we laid our master plan down fully, our enemy list would grow.
“Hey, bro, don’t take my shit over there in no alley. Park it over there by y’all booth.” Izzi swung his door open, throwing commands to the attendant like he worked for him. My manz was looking bewildered. “Hey, you hear me right?” Izzi flashed two crumbled fifty-dollar bills in his face.
“Yup, I got you.” He snatched and shoved the bills into his pocket. “I can take care of that most certainly.”
Hopping out in a crisp pair of Mek jeans, black-and-red Detroit Made shit, and a pair of Jordan 4s, I was fresh off the block, hustling and grinding, ready to waste a pocket full of cash. Izzi kept his fit gutter with a pair of army fatigue cargo shorts, white tee, and Timberlands. A pigeon from the east side braided him up tight before he left the spot. We both made
sure our reinforcement was tucked in the back of our pants. Fuck rules. Money made sure of that. I never parted from my piece. You’d never know when shit would pop off in the D.
The line was formed around the block, and the few dudes who thought their paper stretched far were pricing the ticket to get VIP status. We stood out on the scene, waiting for them to get their game right. Real bosses didn’t have to question prices, ’cause they were too busy tossing cash and breezing in. These lame-ass niggas were wasting my time.
“So, we’re walking in with you and Izzi, right?” Melanie’s good-begging ass snuck up on me. “I knew you’d show up.”
“Damn, you’re like a stalker, yo! Where the fuck yo’ ass just come from?” Izzi laughed loudly, putting my first ex on blast. Real talk, though, I felt him and wondered the same thing myself. Usually never being the one to be messy or involve himself with my chicks, I knew the liquor had him talking. Besides that, I wanted Mel’s rat ass to go away.
“Man, whatever.” She sucked her teeth, continuing on. “I ain’t stalking, fool. Y’all just bent the corner. Me and my girls been in line for like thirty minutes already.”
“Then keep wearing your soles sore. Me and my manz ain’t about to walk in with no females.” I dismissed her again.
“I’m so tired of your fat, funky ass acting like I ain’t shit, Nardo. You was not saying that a few weeks ago, begging for some slob knob.” She got loud, drawing even more attention my way. This heffa was bad for business, and her mouth only good if full.
“Girl, be gone with all that ra-ra shit. Take this twenty. Yo’ girls are waiting.” I pointed to her ratchet group of thirst mongers, wishing she’d raise up out my face. Dudes ahead of us had worked out some deal, finally clearing my path, but she was holding us up. She snatched the twenty but refused to move.
“Aw, nigga, you fooling tonight!” Izzi fronted her off even more. “It don’t look like my manz is trying to fuck with you, sweetie. Save yourself the further embarrassment.” My ace was on a roll as Melanie’s face flushed red. For a split second, I felt sorry for her. She was not lying about our sexual escapades, but that was just it. I didn’t want her for nothing more.
“Yeah, you’re right. I got you, Nardo.” As she stomped toward her girl, I watched her firm behind switch, wishing I could run my dick up and down its slit one last time.
“Damn, ol’ girl got a fat ass, though!” Izzi rudely commented, watching her stand wide-legged on purpose, knowing I was still caught up staring. “No wonder you keep doing double backs. Let’s get up in this club, nigga. You know it’s slapping.”
Melanie
I swear to God I don’t know why I can’t leave his ass alone.
I clutched my last twenty dollars in hopes that I didn’t have to spend it on a drink to calm down. The last straw should have been him getting down with my girl then leaving me for her! Stomping back over to my clique, I was salty than a muthafucka and ready to light a fuse. Nardo couldn’t help but to disrespect me. This nigga had some nerve and audacity leaving me to stand in line, holding brick walls up while he pranced in on big bills to party with bitches.
“Wow, Melanie, I guess Nardo really is done checking for you.” My girl Rockie shook her head, holding back laughter. “I was just wondering when you planned on getting the point.”
“Bitch, whatever! Nardo always be on some fake shit in front of people, but when we get behind closed doors, he stays with a mouth full of this cookie.” I refused to hold back the truth, no matter how dumb it made me look.
“Well, in that case, you might want to have a serious sit-down conversation with that nigga on public etiquette. ’Cause right about now, you’re looking real pathetic.”
“Wow, just like that? We’re supposed to be girls. That’s how ya gonna cut into me?” I stepped back and eyed Rockie.
“I’m a real friend. A fake friend would fuck yo’ man. Learn the difference,” she proudly stated while dropping some knowledge in my ear.
Moving up to the front of the line, we were a few feet away from it all going down. With Nardo pulling another diss move on me, I’d neglected to inform him about Zaria being there. Once he got some liquor in his system, he’d be singing another tune, and I’d have his ass all in my face—trust! Nardo might’ve been playing me for a fool, but Zaria needed to know I ain’t never stopped fucking with him on the side—not never one day.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Zaria
“Oh my God! I can’t believe this nigga is here,” I murmured and rolled my eyes to Nardo and Izzi walking through the front door like a couple of celebrities. I was irked to see him in the flesh but kinda turned on by how fine he looked. Chicks were on their heels like a pack of paparazzi as they strolled to the bar.
“Aw, naw, li’l momma. Don’t stop dancing with a nigga just because that clown and his joker are here.” The bouncer picked up on my all-of-a-sudden distant vibe and pulled me back into his space.
Backing up from the slow dance me and the bouncer were entangled in, I watched Izzi and Nardo stroll into the bar with less than a care in the world like a couple of celebrities. I wanted Nardo to hear about my presence, not actually see me. My original game plan would have to be sidetracked because I didn’t know what he’d do, nor was I prepared for the embarrassment.
When the waitress came back past carrying a tray of Patrón shots, I slid her a twenty spot for two, wasting no time tipping them into my mouth. Trying to keep up with Izzi and Nardo from a distance was hard with guys pushing up on me from left and right. Too concerned over my baby daddy and if that ratchet trick Spice had accompanied him, I brushed off each dude with ease and kept my focus on Renard. Bet money, I was no longer in the mood for a parade of attention, or like Pac said, “All Eyez on Me.” I couldn’t risk Nardo peeping me out in the crowd.
The back booth of Floods was always reserved for big spenders and those willing to keep the party going all night. Izzi and Nardo had done just that, having hot box females glued by their sides. My attitude was on fire, peeping bottles of top-shelf liquor and Moët. Seeing Izzi make it rain on a few chicks as they twerked for attention had me livid.
It was itching me something awful to go over and blow the spot up, but I surprisingly held it in. Nardo couldn’t be privy to knowing he had me twisted up, not having a good time on account of him. Even as he dipped off to the side, I still kept a keen-eye surveillance on him, watching his every move like a hawk.
Oh, no this bitch didn’t. This nigga better not fucking show her no love.
Watching Melanie sneak back up on Nardo, hugging him from behind, I glared with ice-cold blood running through my veins.
“Hell fuckin naw,” I muttered through gritted teeth, feeling my blood pressure rise. “It’s about to be some shit,” I all but yelled, making a few heads turn to see the commotion.
Watching Melanie grind her wide ass over Nardo made my stomach turn. She was working hard at seducing my baby daddy, and from the look of enjoyment on his face, her bold moves were working.
Nardo
The club was packed with half-dressed females. The youngins on the dance floor might as well have taken their shows to the strip club. It was ass everywhere. Fuck modesty. Me and Izzi made our way straight through the bar to our reserved VIP booth.
“Hey, honey, grab me and my boy a bottle of Cîroc each.” It was time to get bent.
I don’t pop Molly; I rock Tom Ford.
JAY-Z had the crowd jumping, and Melanie’s yamp-ass episode outside hadn’t killed my vibe at all. I was more than ready to party and get wasted with my manz.
“Yo, shit’s on me tonight,” Izzi boasted then slapped a few Benjamins on the counter. “I’m about to grab some ladies and get it to popping!”
When the waitress arrived with our bottles, I didn’t wait on Izzi to throw them back. I needed to catch up with him.
“Hey, baby girl, grab me a shot of Patrón to get my high rolling.” She rushed away eagerly after snatching Izzi’s cash off the table
and being told to keep the change.
My plan was to get fucked up and end up in a wet one by three in the morning sharp. Anything goes with the hoes that frequented Floods, and tonight, this was oh so true. Females were coming out of the woodwork, approaching me and Izzi. Word was strong that we had cash, so of course they wanted their fair share. Having the booth locked down, our private party was overflowing.
“Damn, here comes Mel and a flock of fools.”
Izzi shook his head as the yesteryear cat I once banged on a daily basis approached me from behind. I didn’t even care that one of Zaria’s so-called friends, Kimmie, and her Korean crew took notice of me feeling all over Melanie. Them envious, bottom-barrel, slanted-eye whores just wanted to be next in line anyway.
She was hugging me, throwing the pussy my way again, and this time I didn’t brush her off so quickly. With liquor running through my veins and a nigga’s ego swollen from the amount of love chicks were throwing my way, Mel got in where shit fit in, and this happened to be the right time. The way she was grinding her plump ass on my dick had it rising to full attention.
I couldn’t even front; her moves were turning me on. She drove a hard bargain and couldn’t be denied. With me getting ready to lay the law down with Z, either she’d have to accept the new me or roll out. So, the alcohol had me thinking maybe I could still dig out Mel from time to time.
Mel turned around and started kissing all over my neck. Grabbing at my back with her nails, making sure to make those sex noises in my ear she used to make when I was inside of her, she was outright with her intent. “You taking me home with you tonight, Nardo?” she begged tenderly in my ear.
“And how do you know I’m not going home to Zaria later?”
“Just a feeling.”
Loyal to His Lies Page 7
