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Wicked smiles ease over Marika and my lips.
It’s about to be a long muthafuckin’ night.
TWENTY-ONE
Marcel
Just before eleven, Tuesday night, Marika and I step out of our chauffeured Bentley and hit the red carpet outside Club Amnesia for Laila’s album release party. The entire block is blocked off by security. Onlookers, groupies, and tons of paparazzi hoping to snatch tomorrow’s front-page headlines are outside behind barricades. Marika hides her face as a gaggle of cameras start snapping our pictures, bulbs flashing everywhere.
The bouncers quickly pull back the red rope so we can enter the club. And there’s no surprise here. The music is thumpin’. The party’s packed. The energy’s on full-blast. There are wall-to-wall muhfuckas in all of their bling everywhere, profiling. And scantily clad vixens and video hoes and broads looking for a come-up scour the club, trying to snag their next meal ticket.
I reach for Marika’s hand and snake our way through the massive three-level club. On the main level, I greet a few kats from A & R, then say what’s up to Keshia from BET’s 106 & Park. A lot of shit’s definitely changed in the industry. I’m not gonna front.
I pull Marika onto the dance floor and dance up on her when DJ Chunky Monkey—this cool-ass cat who also deejays real heavy down at some spot over in Jersey. Newark, I think—slides on Laila’s new joint “Booty Clap.”
“Make that booty clap, baby,” I tease, grabbing a chunk of Marika’s ass on the sly. She laughs, spinning out of my grasp. On the right of us, I spot the singer-songwriter Jason Derulo and some sexy Dominican-looking beauty, doing their thing on the floor. I give him a head nod.
Then focus my attention on some wild-ass chick with a big, juicy ass stuffed in a sexy-ass white mini dress with the back cut out dangerously low. I eye her as she spins around in the middle of the floor. She has muhfuckas swarming around her like flies to shit, all dancing and tryna keep up with her energy. “Yes! Yes! Make it clap, gawtdammit!” She drops down low, then pops back up and starts making all her ass clap. She fucks my head up when she bends over and pops each ass cheek. Real shit, I almost nut in my drawz.
That ass is real juicy.
I blink. “Goddamn she gotta fat ass!”
Marika grins. “Oh, you like that, huh?”
“She a bit ratchet for my taste,” I say over the beats, “but that ass, though…”
Juicy Ass spins, then dips, then hops up and down. “Goddamn you, Chunky! Goddamn you! Owwww! Make it clap! Make it clap! Can’t a bitch clap it like me! Take a look and weep, bitches! Booty clap! Booty clap! Owww! Owww! Yes, goddammit! They call me Big Booty, bitches! Oww! Yes, gawd! Laila tore her muthafuckin’ drawz with this shit…!”
Pretty in the face, small in the waist, Juicy Ass bends over again and pulls out a string of anal beads, then swings them shits over her head, dropping it like it’s no thing.
That’s it for me. Marika and I stop dancing, staring in disbelief. I shake my head. “Yo, this chick’s shot the fuck out,” I say, grabbing Marika by the hand. “Let’s get the fuck up outta here.”
“Um, did she just do what I think she did?” Marika asks, furrowing her brows.
“Straight-up freak shit, baby. Where they doin’ that at? Pulling beads outta their ass. Then swinging them shits in the air.”
Marika shakes her head. “Nasty-ass.”
“No doubt.” I take Marika’s hand and put it on my thigh. “But you feel that, right? I ain’t gonna front, baby. She got my dick hard as hell when she did that shit.”
She laughs, squeezing it. “Nasty.”
“It’s all for you, baby,” I shout over the music as another Laila joint plays.
She playfully rolls her eyes, giving me a yeah-right look.
We finally make our way through the second level and like the main level, it’s packed here as well. But more heads are dancing than standing around holding drinks in their hands.
Marika and I bump into Nina, who’s looking sexy as fuck in a black, low-cut wrap dress. She has her hair pinned up.
She waves at us, shifting her drink from one hand to the other, then stepping in to give me and Marika a hug. “Girl, you’re working that dress,” she says, giving Marika an approving look. “Good to see you.”
Marika waves her on. “Girl, please. Not like you’re wearing yours. Good seeing you as well.”
“Damn,” I yell over the music, spreading my arms out. “Don’t you see me standing here? Can a brotha get some love around here, too?”
She rolls her eyes, pressing her body into mine. “Happy?” she says, stepping back. “Girl, I don’t know how you deal with his spoiled behind.”
