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“That’s what that baldheaded bitch gets for runnin’ her fuckin’ mouth. I’ma still see her ass, though.”
“Well, you might have a long wait. ’Cause this mess with her stealin’ prescription pads and shit has been goin’ on for a minute. They were writin’ all types of prescriptions, then sellin’ them shits and whatnot. That ho may be goin’ up the river. These two other chicks were down with her, and they done put the shit all on her ass.”
I laughed. “And that’s exactly why I do my dirt solo.”
“I hear you, girl. So, what’s good for tonight?” she asked, changin’ the subject. “You feel like rollin’ out somewhere? There’s this party at Mars 2112 tonight. And it should be packed with a lotta shakers ’n movers and big-dick ballers.”
I rolled my eyes and sucked my teeth, glancin’ at the clock. It was almost nine o’clock. I really didn’t feel like goin’ out, but it had been a minute since we dropped ’n popped. “What time ya ho ass wanna roll?”
“I’m ready when you are. All I gotta do is slip on my wears. I showered already, but you need to hurry up and scoop me before Divine comes up in here tryna get some pussy ’cause you know the nigga don’t like me leavin’ up outta here without him wettin’ his dick up first.”
“Awww, poor thing,” I said, laughin’. “I’ll be there to save you and your pussy in forty minutes.”
“Please hurry,” she said, laughin’ with me. “The nigga done already texted me, talkin’ ’bout he’s gonna be home in like an hour. So make sure you get ya ass here before then.”
“Aiight, trick. I’ll see you shortly.”
By the time me and Chanel got to Times Square, found parkin’, and walked up to the line to get into the club, it was already eleven-thirty. We had smoked a blunt apiece on the ride over and we were both feelin’ right. Chanel was lookin’ all chic and whatnot in a fly-ass white-and-black print jersey dress that hung off the shoulders, and she rocked a pair of six-inch black strappy sandals with an oversized white Chanel bag. And I kept it cute—of course—in a black, red, and pink abstract dress with a draped front and bubble hem with a twisted cut-out racerback. And of course I had to serve them hoes my Jimmy Choo patent leather Riki Ring bag, and a bangin’-ass pair of Versace Mirror stilettos.
Chanel knew damn well I wasn’t for standin’ in no long-ass lines, and before I could open my mouth to say somethin’ to her, my cell started ringin’. I looked at the number and flipped the phone open. “Hey,” I said, followin’ behind Chanel.
“What’s good, baby?”
“You,” I said.
“That’s what it is. What you gettin’ into tonight?”
“Me and Chanel are in the city gettin’ ready to go up into this club.”
“Oh word, which one?”
“Mars 2112.”
“Oh, shit. That’s where me and my mans are on our way to.”
I laughed. “Yeah right, nigga.”
“Nah, baby, real talk. Matter of fact, I’m rollin’ through midtown now.” He started laughin’. “Yeah, I bet you thought you was gonna be bouncin’ that ass up on them niggas tonight. Well, baby, big daddy’s comin’ through and I’m ’bout to shut shit down.”
“Oh, puhleeeze,” I said, grinnin’. “Ya ass tryna stalk me ’n shit.”
“Yeah, aiight, if you say so. You make sure you got ya pretty ass somewhere where I can get at you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, laughin’.
I spotted Chanel walkin’ toward me. “Bitch, will you come on,” she said, wavin’ me forward. She apparently knew someone who got us in without havin’ to play that long-ass line.
I sighed. “I gotta go,” I said, followin’ behind Chanel, “so hit me up when you get in.”
“You already know,” he said. “I’ll get at you in a minute.” And that’s exactly what he did. We were up in the VIP section all night poppin’ bottles and gettin’ our throats wet lovely. Grant let me do me, but outta respect, I kept it cute. I let the nigga hug and kiss up on me, and I only danced with a few cats, but mostly danced with him. By the end of the night, I was lit and ready to go home and roll up on top of a hard dick. But of course, Grant had to take his mans back to wherever he had to be, and Chanel was gonna crash at my spot so that cancelled that out.
I had my arms folded ’cross my chest and my lip poked out like I was poutin’ as we were walkin’ outta the club. It was goin’ on three-thirty in the mornin’. Grant and I stood outside waitin’ for his peoples and Chanel’s dick-hungry ass.
“Yo,” he said, grabbin’ me by the waist and pullin’ me into him, “cut that shit out. You know what it is. I’ma see you later today. You make sure you take ya ass straight home.”
I rolled my eyes, grinnin’. “Whatever, nigga.”
He kissed me on the lips. “Yo, you know you got my dick hard, right?”
