by King, Deja
Envious glares were trained on Semaj as she and Tala made their way up to the bi-level VIP longue. They found a table by the rails, overlooking the live crowd. Semaj could feel the intense stares too, but she wasn’t tripping. She was one breed that women loved to hate. But one thing about Semaj, she knew it and understood why. If these bitches only knew, I’m not here to try to get their nigga. If anything, I’ma hit that stash and send that nigga right back to ya ass, she laughed inwardly.
“Let me get a glass of Moscato and a bottle of Louie Xlll, the
50 milliliter bottle.” Semaj said to the waitress. She ordered the glass just to be extra. Her robbery money was consistent, so she was good and she showed out wherever she went. “It’s for all the thirsty bitches lookin’ like they wanna fuck a bitch or somethin’.” She and Tala shared in laughter.
“Think you mean you’ll have a glass of the Louie too. Because the bottle is five hundred plus,” the waitress replied with an attitude.
Semaj wasn’t the type of woman that bickered. She simply reached inside her designer clutch and pulled out one thousand dollars. Peeling off six hundred dollars, all Grants, she said with a cute smirk, “No, I mean bottle, but thanks for clarifying. Now can you get the Louie and my glass of Moscato?” The waitress didn’t even bother to respond and stomped off.
“Why do bitches always seem to be mad? Gotdamn!” Tala exclaimed.
“They ain’t comfortable in their own skin. It’s just in their damn nature to be angry with the next broad. That’s the only explanation I can give for these ratchet ass hoes, auntie.” Semaj flung her ponytail. “But I’ma enjoy my birthday. Feel me?” She waited patiently and watched as everyone in VIP got their drink and smoke on.
“Here’s your glass of Moscato and bottle of Louie,” the rude waitress said after finally returning with Semaj’s order. She removed an ice-filled bucket from the tray along with her request and placed everything on the table. “That will be $594.00, even,” Ms. Attitude said holding her hand out, as if the money wasn’t already in front of her.
Semaj snickered, finding the chick comical. She simply picked up the small stack of bills from the table and then smacked the money inside of her sweaty palm. While the waitress counted the money, Semaj popped the cork off the bottle and passed it to Tala.
“And… umm, Big Pat said come up to VIP. He wanna holla at you,” Ms. Attitude spat as her nostrils flared wider with each word spoken.
“Who is Big Pat and what he want with me?” Semaj asked as she wrinkled her brow in confusion.
“Girl, you know exactly who Big Pat is. Don’t act like you don’t. Please!” she said in annoyance. “Everybody and they momma know that nigga. Don’t be cute.”
“Sorry, but I’m not everybody and their momma,” Semaj retorted.
“I’ll make sure to let him know you’re uninterested.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Semaj said as Ms. Attitude turned to walk off. “Ay, but sweetie,” she called out behind the waitress.
She spun around before responding and thought to herself, groupie bitch knew she was happy I mentioned Big Pat from jump. Acting all snobbish and shit. “What‘s up?”
“You forgot my change!” Semaj smiled, holding her hand out.
She stared at Semaj long faced as though she was speaking a foreign language. Tala looked at the waitress, and then back at her niece and burst into a fit of laughter. The shit was too funny. “Bitch, you are fuckin’ petty.”
“What? No, I’m not. This broad wanna twist and pop her neck every which way. She ain’t gettin’ shit from me but what I owe her which don’t include a tip.”
Digging inside the apron, Ms. Attitude pulled out six crumpled dollar bills. She put them on the table, rolled her eyes and walked off pissed.
“Damn I know she hot. That’s what her ass get though. But did she say that Big Pat wanted you?”
“Sure did. I wonder what that’s about.” Semaj said, scanning the club. She knew that the girl was right about her knowing exactly who Big Pat was. Who didn’t? He had the streets on lock and ran a very lucrative drug business.
“You know his old, fat ass probably try’na take you home tonight. You know how they say he do.”
“Nigga surely don’t want me to be the choice of the night. He won’t have a home to come to fuckin’ around with me,” Semaj joked, but was serious.
“We came out to enjoy ourselves, not searching for potential victims. Damn girl! Take a night off. Ain’t you chillin’ tonight,” Tala stated seriously.
“You know I ain’t passing up an opportunity. Feel me?”
“Already know.” Tala was too familiar with her niece’s intentions and deceitful tactics.
“But watch how I work this stunt though. School’s in session, so take some notes. You just might learn something from the G!” They both cracked up laughing and then Semaj smiled cunningly. She wondered how the game would play itself out tonight.
The girls sat modestly as they watched the crowd grow thicker and they partied like socialites. It was just a little after midnight and unsurprisingly the club had reached its capacity. At that moment, Semaj noticed her father cashing security out for admission. “Mitch’s ass always lurking,” Tala said as she spotted Murder Mitch easing his way into a booth in the corner. He was so far back that he was almost hidden by the shadows of the abandoned section of the club. All of the other partygoers were crowded around the stage while Murder Mitch was scoping out the scene, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
Just then a tall dark skinned guy approached them. “You in the red, my boy said come holla at him up in the VIP.”
“If you want my attention, then say excuse me. But if your boy wanna holla at me,” she pointed her forefinger at herself and then at him, “Why is he sending you to do his job? What you his spokesman or some shit?”
“Nah,” he sucked his teeth. “It ain’t shit like that. He just up in
VIP. He ain’t try’na get tackled coming down here and shit. It’s Big Pat. You know how that shit be. We move different from the average nigga.”
“Knows nothing about that, my man. But this what you can do for me. Tell your boy if he try’na get at me, he know where I am. There’s no need to send other niggas. We all grown here. I’ll be here for a li’l while longer though,” she faked a huge smile.
“Dammmmn! You just cut like that huh? I see you got ya swag thang going,” he laughed, finding her rare response amusing. “But I’ma be sure to tell the nigga what’s up.”
“You do that,” Semaj said as he turned to walk off.
“Nigga just don’t know he walkin’ his self into a fuckin’ fucked- up trap. Stupid niggas a holla at anybody with a pretty face.” Tala shook her head. She’d seen it all one too many times.
“Don’t hate,” Semaj laughed. “This my shit right here, Tala.” She stood up with the bottle in her hand. She graciously moved back and forth to the hip-hop tunes. It was cute how Semaj was so gorgeous as if she stepped out of Elle magazine, but was bopping to Gucci Mane as though she was nothing but street, and street she was.
“Kick a door nigga… kick a door nigga… everybody… everybody on the floor nigga!” she chuckled, chanting along to the lyrics. “On the low dawg… I’m cutthroat, nigga… ” She hoodishly but femininely grooved to the beat.
“Damn, I really had to travel all the way down here huh?” a male voice behind her said.
Already knowing it had to be the infamous Big Pat, she decided to immediately put her plan into motion. Playing a role, Semaj quickly glanced back at him and replied, “I mean it was your choice.” She stepped a foot forward as if she was uninterested. Semaj knew trying to play the hard-to-get role was chancy, but she didn’t care because in most cases it was the payoff.
Big Pat chuckled, knowing she couldn’t know who he was. “A man like me never has to come to anybody, everybody comes to me,” he whispered in her ear smugly. “Want you come and chill with me and my peoples in VIP? It’s exclusively
for us. It’s my birthday, so we doin’ it real big up top.”
“How ironic. It’s my birthday also,” Semaj continued to slowly sway her mid-section as she overlooked the crowd.
“How old you turn?” he asked with a charming smile. “I’m twenty-two,” she responded.
“That’s what’s up! Come up and kick it with me and my entourage. It’s a celebration”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m no groupie. I’m good.” Semaj still was throwing shade and had barely given him any face. She was half- glancing him to death and placed her attention back to the animated crowd below her.
“I can tell that. And that’s what I like about you. So can I get a name?”
“And why do you want my name? Big Pat is it?” she questioned, her Brooklyn accent rolling off thick. “You can get at any girl in here I’m sure. Being that you have spokespeople, I assume you are the man around here.”
He laughed at her as he rubbed his goatee. “I see you an ol’
comedian or something. You got jokes.”
“Seriously. You got people coming down here like I was ‘pose to know you. Who are you really?” Semaj questioned, glancing back at him.
“Patrick is my name. Yours?” He gently grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him.
“Now that’s much better.” It was now game time. Time to seem interested. “Nice to meet you Patrick. My name is Ashley.” Semaj decided to go with her gut instinct and gave him a fake name. “Now what is it that you want with me?”
“Everything,” he replied. “Everything?”
“Come chill with me up top. We can discuss more up there.” “Nah, me and my girl was finna bounce in a few minutes. I
gotta go to work in the morning,” she lied, but it was all a part of her plan.
“What somebody as fine as you doing working?” Big Pat asked. “See, if you was with a nigga like me you wouldn’t know what it felt like to work.”
“That’s corny bum shit,” she shot with a smirk. “And for the record, I’m independent. I make my own paper, baby.”
“I respect that shit,” Big Pat grinned, finding this woman to be a piece of work. Running the streets he had dealt with all sorts of women but it was just something different about this one right here, something intriguing. “Why don’t you leave with me tonight? I’ll make up for your paycheck.”
“Sorry. Not a one-night stander or none of that, babes. I’m not into going to hotels, traps, or none of that desperate shit. For a guy of your suppose caliber,” Semaj said sarcastically. “You just pick random girls up at the club frequently?”
“I see you just gon’ give me a hard time.”
“No doubt. What you thought I was going to be easy?”
“Nah. Fo’real, I done already deciphered your persona. You rare, I can admit that. So going to the hotel and one-nighting you ain’t happening. Where I lay my head comfortably is where you’ll be. Trust. So you leavin’ with me?” he asked confidently.
“Sorry, but I don’t leave the club with dudes that I don’t know. That’s not my persona either,” she stated as she shifted all her weight on one leg, giving her hips an enticing shape. Semaj was a professional in the area of sizing a nigga up, and knew she had dude right where she wanted him to be. If the streets required a degree, she’d already graduated summa cum laude. “I’ll give you my number though. Maybe when I get off work tomorrow we can go out somewhere. That’s if that’s cool with you, you know.”
Big Pat stared at her intensely. He was astounded.
Semaj was really holding her own. Her behavior was of a woman that had respect for herself, the type of female you would consider courting. She appeared harmless, lovable, innocent, but in actuality, all Semaj knew was harm and she had lost her innocence as a child. It was a shame what the world had turned her into. She was a con artist and a very manipulative woman. She was untrustworthy and had been for a very long time.
“No doubt, ma. I’m feelin’ that.” He pulled out his BlackBerry and handed it to her. She stored her number and handed the phone back to him. “I’ma get up wit’ you tomorrow evening some time.”
Semaj graciously nodded her head as she said, “C’mon, Tala.” She purposely set the half of bottle of Louie atop the table. She walked out of the VIP lounge and down the wraparound stairs. Big Pat watched from the railing as she left the building, just as she knew he would. I got him, she thought silently as she exited the club all the while texting her father their next potential victim.
Chapter2
“Damn, Semaj you really throwing nigga shade when shit get fucked up and a nigga lockdown. But before it was all good. You was lovin’ everything about me, huh? That’s fucked up on some real shit. I showed you love and now you can’t return the love. It’s cool ‘cause you ain’t gotta let me borrow the bond money and I’ma still bounce back quick.
Mu’fuckas tellin’ me you had that Big Pat nigga all up in ya ear last night. Since my money ain’t long no more and I’m out of sight, I’m out of mind too, huh? You going to the next baller huh? That’s why I don’t fuck wit’ you bougie ‘hood bitches. Fuck you, cause you ain’t shit!. Try’na not answer my muthafuckin’ calls,” Gabe said on her voicemail as she listened to the message for the second time and hung up.
“Tala, tell me if I’m trippin’ and this just ain’t no clown shit this
nigga on, ma,” Semaj chuckled, finding the voice message ridiculously silly. She walked up to the mirror that sat above her mantelpiece and began fixing her hair.
“Girl, that’s his ass on there, pissed as shit that you cut his ass off and leaving him in there.”
“I don’t know why he mad at me. Nigga need to be mad at his muthafuckin’ self. I ain’t no gotdamn charity. Like seriously, dude betta go on ‘head wit’ all that bull. Can you believe that nigga though?”
“Hell yeah! Bitch you’re the reason he broke and can’t bond out. And I heard money on that nigga and his family’s head.”
Looking over at Tala, Semaj scrunched her face into a scowl.
“I see you got jokes, bitch. Funny!” she turned around hastily, faking a smile full of sarcasm and resumed back to pulling her hair into a high ponytail. “He don’t know that shit. He’ll never think that it was me that had my daddy run up into his crib. Fuck it!” she hunched her shoulders. “It ain’t my fault the nigga only had thirty grand to his name and a brick and went to jail a week later. Hell, all the talkin’ and splurgin’ he used to do, you would’ve thought he was that nigga ‘round these parts, Ta.”
“Damn, dude fucked up! I thought you was still gon’ fuck with him, though.”
“I was gon’ still talk to dude but he ran out of money, so there’s nothing we can do. Ol’ boy can’t even take the kid to get a dollar sandwich. I ain’t gon’ be in the company of no broke ass niggas, flat out. He better be more careful next time. Hey, he in jail on some petty shit anyway. They will O.R. his ass out eventually. But he need to stop callin’ me, ‘cause I ain’t got nothin’ for his ass. Niggas got the game fucked up,” she sighed.
Semaj let the words roll off her tongue freely not caring she sounded cutthroat. Shit, she was cutthroat and definitely cut from a different cloth than the average chick seeking handouts. Semaj could see Tala’s reflection through the mirror and noticed through her eyes that she was heavily in thought. “Ta, what the heck you thinking
‘bout?”
“Fo’real,” she sighed. “I’m thinking about getting back into this game wit’ you man. My money is damn near on, E, and you know I ain’t used to that shit. But then I think about Zyden and don’t be on it.”
“Is it that heavy? ‘Cause you know I can front you some bread.” “Nah, I ain’t dead broke. I just can’t spend how I use to spend and
my expenses are steady rising while my money decreasing. I feel like I got two options: fuck ‘round with y’all or start running dope. Paris dude was asking Mercedes to be a transporter for him for a thousand a brick. I was thinking ‘bout tel
lin’ the nigga I’d do it.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Shit, it’s tempting. But then I thought about it and we all know the risk is way higher these days wit’ that shit than how you get down.”
“I know, right.”
“Hell yeah. I’ma have to figure out something though before I
really be needing you to front me some dough.”
“Why don’t you just use some of the money D-Boy stashed away before he went to prison?”
“Girl, you must be crazy! Dude get out of jail and find a dollar missing he’d be ready to kill me.”
“Just put it back once you find your new hustle,” Semaj suggested. “Or stage a robbery one day when he calls so you ain’t gotta pay shit back.”
The duo’s conversation was cut short due to Tala’s blaring phone. “What up, Paris?”
“Ta, I just pulled up at Mercedes house and that nigga is out here beating brakes off her ass again. You better come get your son. Li’l nigga scared to death man. Shaking and shit.”
“I’m on my way. Good looking.” Tala slid into her kicks. “Bitch, we gotta go. You can just drop me off at home after I get my son. That dumb ass nigga over there beating Mercedes ass as usual. Disrespectful ass nigga know my muthafuckin’ baby there.”
“I told you to stop letting her watch him. Should’ve taken him over Ms. Long’s like you always do. I know that’s yo’ baby daddy sister and all, but fuck that. They fight in front of their own kids. Think they give a fuck ‘bout yours?”
“Won’t be watching mines no more,” Tala made clear as they rushed out of Semaj’s brownstone in a Brooklyn suburb.
