King Reece

by Shaun Sinclair

“Well, what did I promise you?” Qwess clarified.

  “Oh. You told me that if I do the right thing, you’d make me a star.”

  “Riiiight. Did I?”

  “Hell yeah, dawg. I shine like the sun, baby. Haha,” Flame joked.

  “See, I tell you. Just be patient. It’ll come. Things don’t happen overnight,” promised Qwess to both sisters. They were beginning to get discouraged because they hadn’t seen any light yet, other than attending industry events as spectators.

  Flame spotted the girl from earlier who had lent him her panties. “Yo, pardon me for a minute.” Flame excused himself.

  “Yo, where you going?!” Qwess gasped.

  “I gotta go pay somebody back what they lent me,” Flame answered, holding up the satin panties.

  Qwess shook his head as Flame and 8-Ball tore through the crowd. “Don’t get lost! Business first!” he yelled, but his voice was drowned out by the deafening bass of the crunk music.

  Niya and Doe were busy enjoying the appetizers and getting busy with the free drinks while observing the scene. Reece was beside him talking animatedly on a cell phone, while Hulk posted up beside their table. After drinking too much, Doe told Reece, “Yo, cuz, watch my wife while I go use the bathroom. I’d hate to have to fuck one of these brothers up about mine.”

  Niya blushed. She loved to hear her husband talk like that, especially in light of the problems they had been having lately.

  Doe maneuvered his way to the bathrooms located by the elevators that led to VIP. He had quite a time getting through because of the people scattered about inside, sniffing cocaine in ciphers, and smoking sherm blunts. He could just imagine how many people were already on X pills. Doe handled his business and was accosted at the sink by a woman who recognized him. (Yes, the middle-floor bathrooms were coed.) She demanded Doe autograph her perky breasts. Doe obliged her with no hesitation and peeled out. On his way back to the table, he inwardly checked himself on how easily he had agreed to sign the woman’s breast, right above her nipple. Months ago that would’ve been a definite no-go.

  Lost in his thoughts, Doe never even saw Dana until she grabbed his arm.

  “Hey, stranger. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Dana greeted.

  Doe started looking over her. “Oh yeah?” Doe was unnerved, as he was obviously attracted to Dana.

  “Um-hmmm. You look nice,” Dana complimented. She had to reach up and whisper in Doe’s ear because of the music.

  “You too,” yelled Doe.

  Dana was wearing a turquoise spaghetti-strap dress of light material, which cupped her ample bosom nicely and accented her smooth Hawaiian skin. Her hair was pulled over to one side with a colorful flower holding it in place.

  “Thank you. So, am I going to get a chance to dance with you? After all, this is a party.”

  “I don’t know about that. My wife is with me,” admitted Doe.

  “Damn, she got the cla-clink on yo’ ass!” Dana demonstrated with her wrists outstretched. “You must’ve been a bad boy before?”

  Doe allowed himself a brief laugh, “Nah, nothing like that.”

  “Well, you know,” Dana began, her voice taking on a sultry sincere tone, “I’m a very persistent person. Intoxicating, too. One dance could lead to a lot more. It’s a good thing the ole ball and chain is with you. I see something I want, and I will get it.”

  Doe had to indulge her. “What makes you think I want you? I am a married man.”

  “Oh, you want me.” Dana was confident, which Doe was finding irresistible.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Dana looked around to ensure not too many eyes were on them before she pulled closer to Doe.

  “Because your dick is hard.” She cupped him in her hand and held him there, looking deeply into his eyes. “Don’t deny yourself what you really want. Later.”

  Just like that, she was gone, leaving Doe with hard thoughts and a harder dick.

  When Doe arrived at the table he was surprised to see Reece conversing with Samson and Bone. Ever since the incident at AMG, Samson had been laying low. Now here he was in the flesh, in a club full of industry folk. Sure, he wore a Kangol pulled down over his eyes, but Samson wasn’t the type of person you looked over—even if his Kangol wasn’t cream-colored, which it was. Doe surmised that Samson came to view the fruits of his labor firsthand. Doe had no qualms with him being there. If not for Samson, Niya would’ve still been a slave for AMG.

  “Salaam alayka, Big Sams,” greeted Doe.

  “Peace, Blackman.” Samson enveloped him in a tight embrace. “What’s the deal?”

  “Chilling.”

  “I see the lady looking good,” Samson commented, giving Niya the once-over.

  “True, true.”

  They talked a little with minutes slipping away. Soon it was time for Flame to perform, and he was nowhere in sight. No doubt he was wilding away with the broad from earlier.

  Just as Qwess was about to send Abdullah to search for him, Flame popped up wearing just his trousers, boots, and a wife-beater T-shirt. In his hand he held his top shirt, which was soaking away. Flame’s braids were soaked as well.

  Qwess shot Flame that knowing glance. Flame gestured for Qwess to chill. Qwess didn’t get a chance to rebuke him because the emcee called Flame to the stage.

  Flame took the stage while the instrumental to his new single gripped the powerful system. The crowd swayed and started murmuring the words to the song before Flame even spit one word. Patrons from VIP even came down to witness the mini-concert.

  Flame ripped through his new single, some old classics, and freestyled a bit, while his chubby sidekick 8-Ball played hype man. As quick as it started, the performance was over. Flame called Qwess to the stage, and he commandeered the mic.

  “Yo, give it up for my man,” Qwess exhorted. “Fayettenam’s finest!” The audience applauded. “A’ight. Now, there is another piece of business we want to share with you. As you know, ABP prides itself on bringing up the best quality music in the game. Emphasis on quality. Now in keeping with that tradition, we added someone else to the family. Someone I know you love.” Qwess paused for effect.

  “Please, Atlanta, help us welcome to the family the newest addition to the ABP roster—”

  Cameras poised, tapes rolled, silence ensued.

  “Niya!”

  Niya sashayed on stage, all tanned legs and diamonds, with panache, amid healthy applause. Right behind her was Doe, holding his wife down every step of the way. Niya walked up to Qwess, planted a kiss on his cheek, then grabbed the mic. The crows lowered a bit.

  “I’d like to thank you for your support. You mean the world to me,” Niya gushed. “I’m looking forward to blessing you, as you have blessed me with the hottest music to come out in a long time! Know what I’m saying. I’m thrilled to bring my music home. I’m sure you all will reap the benefits.” Niya’s voice dripped of a B-more accent, as did her style. Ladies in the urban jungles of America thoroughly identified with her music.

  Qwess regained the mic, spoke briefly, then called all members of ABP’s recording staff on stage. Once assembled, Qwess raised his arms grandly and announced, “We present to you the future of hip-hop!”

  Some applauded. Some didn’t. Qwess was set-tripping in a big way. Nonetheless, they all left the stage to resume partying.

  When Qwess exited the stage, he felt a tug at his arm. He turned and looked into the eyes of Qima, the reporter from the magazine.

  “Hey there,” she offered. “Yo. Okay, I see. You still salty about the joke, huh?”

  “Nah, I’m just messing wit’ ya. What’s the bizness?” asked Qwess.

  “Nothing with me. Everything wit’ you.”

  “What you mean?”

  “You’re quite the talk of the industry.”

  “You think?”

  Qima scoffed. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Anyway,” Qwess said dismissively, “I’m sure you didn’t come over to tell me I’m popular.
”

  “Actually, I came to buy you a drink.” Qwess was surprised, but the act humbled him. “Nah, let me buy you one. Come on.”

  Qwess and Qima journeyed to the table. As they arrived at the table, Doe and Hulk were leaving.

  “Where you going?” Qwess asked them.

  “Following these fools to VIP.” Doe pointed to Reece and Samson, already ahead by a few steps. “Damn, shorty, you look different. Kinda cute. Good looking out on that article,” Doe shot at Qima. He was aroused, so all his senses were heightened.

  Doe, Hulk, Samson, and Reece entered the third floor amid stares. The two giants with them made it appear that two bigshots needed their bodyguards to party. That wasn’t the case at all. It was just family chilling, catching up on old times. Still, people got out of their way. Some people recognized Reece from his Don Diva magazine article, which caused them to whisper and point slyly. The crew snagged a table in the cut to parlay. Yet they couldn’t help but trip off the wannabes inside VIP like the nut who walked around with a drippy jerry curl à la 1985. Or the other brother wearing a chunky wacky chain. It was clearly a cheap grade of silver, but he flaunted it like he wore a mil around his neck. And he had the nerve to put diamonds in it. The crew couldn’t help but laugh, especially Reece. Gossip was something the god didn’t usually do. He felt that was for hoes. However, being new to the streets again, he couldn’t help but comment on how the quality of brothers had dropped significantly.

  They were still lost in conversation when Dana popped up out of nowhere. She was determined this time, evidenced by the way she grabbed Doe’s hand.

  “Can I speak with you a moment?”

  “Sure, speak,” Doe told her, refusing to meet her gaze.

  “More of a private setting would be nice.” She pulled Doe’s hand. He didn’t resist. Next thing he knew they were in the black room.

  Doe didn’t club too much, except for business, so he was green as to what went on nowadays, especially in VIP. Even if he did, he wouldn’t have been prepared for what met him in the black room. The black room encouraged people to “black” out. Hence its name. People paid the thousand-dollar cover to the third floor just for the black room. That being the case, it shouldn’t have surprised Doe that people were jumping off in the black room. Not that he could see anything. His nose worked well, though, and all he smelled was pussy.

  Dana commandeered a corner and put Doe’s back to the wall. She whispered in his ear, “It’s time to stop fighting it. Let me give you what you want.”

  She cooed oh so softly in his ear. Doe couldn’t see her eyes, but he could smell her sweet breath. He could feel the warmth emanating from her body. Dana rubbed her fingers across Doe’s upper lip, letting him smell her juices. She had been playing with herself since the moment they stepped into the black room.

  “Taste it,” Dana encouraged. “Taste my pussy. Your pussy . . . if you want it.” Dana slid her fingers into Doe’s mouth, then slid closer to him, her breast flattened against his chest. She put both arms around his narrow waist and spoke into his face.

  “I’ma show you how you’re supposed to feel all the time,” she promised.

  Doe shuddered with desire in her arms. Dana could actually feel him shake, and she knew she had him. And she could also feel the centerpiece of his arousal, harder than brick, at the pit of her stomach.

  Dana sank down to her knees. All the while she held him close, falling down his shirt front, past his faux marble belt, coming to rest on the part of him that refused to be denied. She allowed her face to linger there a moment, absorbing the heat from Doe’s member. She rubbed her face on it from cheek to cheek. Dana felt it pulsing, threatening to bust through the flimsy trousers. She felt how big he was, which made her want him in her mouth more. Right now. She found his zipper, slipped it down smoothly, and released the monster from its prison. Doe’s love muscle fell out into Dana’s waiting hands. She held it like a prize, savoring the moment. She opened her mouth and placed the head on her tongue, letting it sit unperturbed. Using her tongue ring like a trained expert, she titillated the underside of his dick until neither one of them could stand it. Feeling Doe was on the verge of release, she deep-throated him in one smooth motion. Doe groaned loudly in surrender. The sound of others getting busy around them heightened the experience. Dana continued to deep-throat Doe, all the while using her arms to pull him closer. Doe was in another world! His wife never gave him professionals so well. He was about to release his juiciest into Dana’s mouth when suddenly she stopped.

  Doe cried out, “What the fuck!”

  Dana ascended from her knees, put her fingers over Doe’s lips, and whispered to him, “I only swallow what’s mine.”

  Doe had to struggle to regain his composure, but he did. “Yo, Dana, chill, ma. You know I got a wife,” Doe reminded her.

  Dana was on point, though. “I know, and I don’t wanna break that up, but I do want you. So what’s up?”

  “What you mean?”

  “I mean this: We can take it however you want to. I’ll respect your boundaries with your wife as long as you’re there for me when I need you.”

  Doe knew things were fishy. A broad this bad wanting to be his mistress. First thought: She was a gold-digging groupie. Second thought: He didn’t give a fuck. With head skills like that, he could imagine what the fuck game was like. He had money to burn; wasn’t shit for him to sponsor a broad. He would only allow her shovel to go so far into his money pit.

  “Yo, you serious?” Doe asked.

  “As a heart attack.”

  Doe contemplated a moment then pulled Dana closer to him. “I’m down, but know this: If it’s mine, it’s mine exclusively,” he whispered into her ear.

  Dana sounded offended. “Of course. I’m not the type of girl to sleep around. Now let’s go before you’re missed.”

  With that, they maneuvered out of the black room. As they neared the door, Doe could’ve sworn he heard Flame in there with them, talking dirty to some chick. Doe moved a little more cautiously toward the door, paused a moment, then slipped out alone.

  Back at Doe’s table, Samson and Reece were conversing about Destiny.

  “So, you sure you took her the test?” Reece asked Samson.

  “Yeah, god.”

  “Was it positive?”

  “I don’t know. I just dropped the shit off and dipped,” Samson answered, “Yo, god, what’s up with that broad? You gon’ handle that bitch, right? ’Cause it seem like you getting soft on her all over again. I know my dawg ain’t going down like that?” Samson made light of the question but he was dead serious.

  “Hell, nah. That bitch put a chink in the Crescent Crew armor. That shit can’t ride. Pregnant or not.” Reece said the menacing words to his comrade, but he felt different. Despite himself he was starting to feel for Destiny all over again. Maybe it was her willingness to learn, or her courage. Reece knew many men who cringed in his presence. Men, if put in the situation Reece had put Destiny in, would’ve probably killed themselves by now. But not Destiny. She held strong.

  “That’s what I’m talking ’bout,” Samson countered. “I wanna kill that bitch myself. You just don’t know.”

  Reece cringed inwardly with the thought of Samson breaking his girl’s neck. His girl? What the fuck? Reece had to catch himself.

  “In due time, Poppo. In due time,” promised Reece.

  Out of nowhere Mustapha rolled up with Niya in tow.

  “Where’s my husband?” demanded Niya.

  Reece and Samson looked to each other, remembering who Doe had stolen away with.

  “Um, I don’t know. The nigga was just right here, li’l cuz,” Reece attempted to say.

  Niya narrowed her eyes. She knew something was up, but before she could investigate further Reece informed her, “Oh, there the nigga go right there.”

  Doe arrived at the table and spoke to his wife.

  “Hey, patnah. Where you been?” Niya attempted to kiss her husband but Doe turn
ed to give her his cheek.

  “Um-um. I’ve been calling Earl,” sidestepped Doe. “This shit is messing up my stomach.”

  Niya accepted his excuse but was reluctant. She smelled the faintest hint of perfume around his collar when she went to kiss him. She overlooked it, though.

  “Good, because Qwess said he’s about ready to go. Y’all ready?”

  “Yeah, no doubt. Where’s Flame?” Doe asked.

  “Who knows?” Hulk answered.

  “Baby, give me your two-way.” Niya passed Doe her pager, and he began typing. “Man, I told y’all to keep an eye on him; y’all know how he get at these parties,” Doe chastised while typing Flame a message.

  Everyone gathered their things and prepared to leave. Hulk, Samson, Reece, and Mustapha went first while Doe and Niya lagged behind them, hugged up like lovebirds. Before entering the elevator doors Doe spotted Dana at the bar. She blew him a kiss. He returned a wink. The elevators doors closed, reopened, and put them out on the second floor, where they linked up with Qwess and company. Qwess informed them that the cars were waiting.

  They moved through the crowd bidding farewell to those who mattered. Flame caught up with Qwess at the door and told him he wanted to kick it a while longer. Qwess wasn’t too enthused since he knew how Flame could get taken off track with those broads. They had an in-store CD signing at one o’clock the next day. From previous experience, Qwess knew Flame was liable to party until daybreak. Flame told Qwess that he would check him at the W Hotel no later than three a.m. Flame practically promised Qwess, so Qwess relented and left for the night.

  Outside, the limos were parked curbside idling. Doe and Niya were already in their limo with Mustapha. The chauffeur closed their door and pulled from the curb. Qwess went to inform Flame’s driver to stay put for a while. Qwess could’ve easily gotten someone to do it for him, but he was a micromanager.

  Micromanaging was his downfall this night.

  As Qwess walked to the car, shots rang out into the night. The first volley of rounds shattered the passenger-side window of the limo. It exploded, bursting onto Qwess. He crouched on the ground next to the limo looking for cover, reaching for a pistol that wasn’t there. There was a temporary lull in the gunfire. Qwess peeked his head up to see where the danger came from. More shots shook the Atlanta night. Qwess tucked himself behind the limo again.