Section 8

by K'wan

  “Come on, fam, I don’t even know why y’all are acting like that.” The kid adjusted the brim of his Yankee fitted.

  The bouncer sighed deeply, as if he was tiring of talking to the kid. “Listen, y’all niggaz know the rules: no sneaker and no fitted caps.”

  “Forget about it, let’s just go,” another kid said. He was thin and wore his hair in short dreads.

  “Nah, fuck all that, Bobby. These dudes is gonna stop acting like they don’t know Hollywood from Harlem. This is Starving/Big Dawg Entertainment over here.” Hollywood pounded his chest. He was creating an unnecessary scene and the bouncer was losing his patience.

  “So you’re with Big Dawg, huh?” the bouncer asked sarcastically.

  “Muthafucking right. You know Harlem roll as a unit.”

  The bouncer just looked at him. “Get the fuck outta here. Look, I wouldn’t give a fuck who you was, shorty, ain’t nothing popping. Rules are rules, so either come back when you’re dressed properly or take your ass to one of them hole-in-the-wall bars to get a drink.”

  Hollywood looked the bouncer up and down. “Do I look like the kind of muthafucka that party at hole-in-the-walls?”

  The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “You don’t wanna know what you look like.”

  Hollywood was about to respond when a voice cut through the night: “Big Dawgz coming through.”

  Led by Remo and Devil, the Big Dawg entourage made their way to the entrance of the spot. “Pardon me, l’il nigga.” The bouncer pushed through Hollywood and Bobby and greeted Don B. “What it is, my man.” He shook the CEO’s hand.

  “Ain’t nothing. How we looking up in there?” Don B. tried to peer through the tinted windows of the spot.

  “It’s light right this minute, but now that y’all are here is gonna pick up.”

  “Let’s hope so. I promised the little homeys a good time.” he motioned toward the Left Coast Theory, who were looking around in awe, “and you know the Don is a man of his word.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Don, you know we treat all of ours right in this spot. We gonna make sure ya boys have a good-ass time,” the bouncer assured him, moving to open the door for Don B. and his people.

  “This is some real bullshit,” Hollywood commented, watching dudes dressed in hoodies and sneakers being allowed inside because they were with Don B. “I guess you gotta know a muthafucka to be treated right, huh?”

  “Looks like you’ve got half a brain after all.” The bouncer moved Hollywood to the side so the others could enter.

  “Don’t put ya fucking hands on me, duke,” Hollywood flexed.

  The bouncer glared at him. “Fam, if you don’t get the fuck outta here, I’m gonna put hands and feet on you.”

  People were crowding around now and all Hollywood needed to show his ass was an audience. “Muthafucka, is you stupid? You better save that tough talk for ya bitches, ’cause I’m a G on these streets!”

  “Wood, be easy,” Bobby tried to urge him, but it only made Hollywood go harder.

  “Fuck that; niggaz get they wigs pushed for less!” By the time Hollywood finished his sentence, the bouncer had a fist full of his sweater. The only thing that saved him from getting his face knocked sideways was Don B.

  “Fuck is you doing, buzz’n; you know we don’t need that kinda heat out here tonight,” Don B. scolded the bouncer as if he were speaking to a child.

  “My fault, Don, but this nigga’s mouth been going all night. You know this cat?” He gave Hollywood a shake for good measure.

  “Yo, Don, tell this muthafucka something. He acting like you don’t know big Hollywood!” Hollywood was now sweating like a runaway slave.

  “Who?” Don B. scratched his bearded chin.

  “Hollywood, man; Starving Entertainment—True’s man!”

  Hearing his former protégé’s name made Don B. look closer at Hollywood. He couldn’t place him at first, but hearing his annoying voice took him back to the day of the video shoot that had caused the death of his closest friend. “Man, every time I see your little ass, somebody has got you hemmed up. Ain’t you ever gonna learn about that mouth?”

  “Come on, D, all I was trying to do was come out and show love for Left Coast. I heard the mix tape, so you know I’m thirsty to sample that album.” Hollywood was almost pleading.

  “Damn, the nigga was gonna take an ass whipping just to hear our album. I’m flattered,” Fully said.

  “Mind your business, Full,” Doze whispered.

  Don B. had a good mind to tell the bouncer to take Hollywood around back and punish him just for being a bird, but the questioning look in his new protégé’s eyes gave him an idea. “Hollywood, you’re a pain in the ass, but your Don is a merciful one so I’m gonna give you a play.” Don B. looked at the bouncer. “Let him in.”

  “Don . . .” the bouncer began, but Remo cut him off.

  “Something wrong with ya ears, fam?” Remo’s dead glare sent chills down the bouncer’s back. He was a tough guy, but he wasn’t a killer, and that’s what he would’ve had to do to dance with Remo.

  “You got that.” The bouncer released Hollywood and opened the door for Don B. and his team. The entourage was ushered inside, leaving only Hollywood and the spectators.

  “See, Bobby, I told you niggaz to respect Starving Entertainment. Let’s go in there and buy out the bar, son,” Hollywood said, loud enough for everyone to hear, while leading Bobby inside.

  “Hold up.” The bouncer blocked their path.

  “Son, what the fuck is ya problem? You heard what Don B. said,” Hollywood barked.

  “Yeah, he said to let you in. Ya man is assed out. Now either come inside or get the fuck outta here; you’re blocking the entrance, you midget muthafucka.”

  “Fuck this shit, Wood, we out.” Bobby turned to leave. He got halfway to the back of the line and realized that Hollywood hadn’t moved. “Wood, what up?”

  Hollywood looked from the increasingly growing crowd inside the club back to his friend. “I’m saying, B, you know I came all the way out from Jersey to come to this joint; there’s gonna be mad people from the industry up in there.”

  “Word, kid?” Bobby frowned.

  “Nah, you know it ain’t even like that.” Hollywood approached Bobby. “Check it, take my car keys and wait for me in the whip while I try to work my hand with this clown-ass nigga.”

  Bobby looked at Hollywood as if he were the shit on the bottom of his shoe. He had seen Hollywood stunt on other members of their team, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he did it to him. “Man, fuck you and this club. I’m out.” Bobby stormed off.

  Hollywood felt eyes on him so he had to make a good show of it. “Word, then fuck you, too! As a matter of fact, you’re fired, and that’s on the hood. Don’t come around the studio trying to eat when it’s popping, sucka-ass nigga.” Hollywood popped his collar and made his way back to the door. From the way the bouncer was staring at him, he expected him to say something slick, but he just shook his head.

  Hollywood spread his arms. “What?”

  “If dudes like you are the future of hip-hop, I’m gonna start bumping country music.” The bouncer laughed mockingly as Hollywood flipped him off and went inside the club.

  “Did you see that sucka shit?” Boots lit her cigarette and tossed the match on the ground.

  “Hmph, that’s some sad shit,” Tracy added.

  “I don’t see how a grown man can allow hisself to be treated like that. If it had been Duhan, he’d have let one of these niggaz have it,” Tionna said.

  “Shit, Duhan wouldn’t have been trying to get in on the strength of another nigga; he had his own swag,” Gucci said.

  “The way the little dude came through, I thought he was handling a few dollars; I didn’t know he was an imposter,” Tracy said.

  “Most of these muthafuckas are,” Gucci said, stepping to the door.

  “Good evening, ladies, welcome to Mochas.” The bouncer smiled, but Gucci didn’t. “Y�
�all must be actresses?” he said, trying a different approach.

  “Nah, we stunt bitches.” Gucci stepped passed him.

  “We do love to stunt.” Tionna followed.

  “You see it, daddy.” Tracy winked. Boots didn’t need to speak; her ass did all the talking as she sashayed inside the spot.

  The moment Tionna crossed the threshold of the darkened room, she felt it. It started in the pit of her stomach and spread to her fingers and toes. The sights and sounds of the Harlem nightlife thrilled her senses to the point where she was almost dizzy. It seemed like every face turned her way and every light in the joint was pointed her way. It was the stage and she was back on it.

  “I gotta go to the bathroom.” Tracy spun off on them before they had even made it all the way inside.

  “That girl’s bladder is weaker than a muthafucka,” Gucci said.

  “It’s either that or her sinuses.” Boots held one nostril and inhaled.

  “She’s still fucking around?” Tionna asked surprise.

  “Off and on,” Gucci admitted. “She thinks it’s a secret, but we been peeped what time it is with Tracy.”

  “I hope she don’t start geeking out this bitch,” Tionna said disgustedly.

  “Tionna, knock it off. Tracy has been bumping for years and we ain’t never seen her selling her ass or her furniture for no drugs, so don’t even act like that. Your stiff ass needs to be worrying about having a good time.”

  “I second that emotion!” Gucci spoke up.

  “Whatever.” Tionna waved them off and kept walking.

  Moving through the crowd, Tionna saw old faces and new ones. Some she acknowledged and some she snubbed, but she took it all in. Gucci parted the crowd like the Red Sea as she and Tionna moved through the room. In the corner, Tionna spotted a dude she knew from the hood who was getting a little change back in the days. From the size of the chain around his neck, it was a safe guess that he had since stepped his game up. Tionna was about to go over and say hello when Gucci yanked her roughly by the arm, causing her to stumble.

  “Damn, Gucci, slow ya ass down before I kill myself in these shoes,” Tionna said, making her slow up.

  Gucci stopped and looked at her. “Tionna, I know you’ve been out of the loop for a while, but you don’t be shouting no nigga out in the club, that’s bird shit.”

  “Gucci, knock it off. I know we know him,” Tionna said, as if it was that simple, which got her a puzzled look from Gucci.

  “So what if we know him? You don’t know his ass like that tonight. T, we’re predators, and stunting-ass niggaz like him are the prey. If you wanna get at him, then that’s cool, but do it on your own time and make him come to you.”

  “That’s my girl, with her mind on game.” Tionna high-fived her.

  “Constantly, ma. Watch me and you might learn something,” Gucci teased, continuing to the bar.

  As usual, the bar was a clusterfuck of people. All the stools were filled with people either drinking or shooting the shit, while almost a double ring of people took up whatever standing space there was. Boots spotted a group vacating the stools at the end of the bar and moved to secure them for her friends, but as she was moving in, so was another girl who had the same agenda. They ended up reaching the stools at the same time.

  “Excuse you.” The girl snaked her neck and looked Boots up and down. She was tall and thin with wormlike toes that hung over the front of her plastic sandals. As if the lime-green spandex dress didn’t make her look stupid enough, she had her lavender weave styled in a beehive.

  “What, you trying to order?” Boots asked, as if she were ignorant to what the girl was talking about.

  “I was about to sit there,” the girl told her.

  “Yeah, but I am sitting here. I’m sure there’s another spot down there somewhere.” Boots gave the girl her back and waved to get the bartender’s attention.

  The girl sucked her teeth and tapped Boots roughly on the shoulder. “I know you don’t call yourself being funny?”

  Boots turned around slowly on the stool and looked the girl up and down. “Nah, it looks like you got the market cornered on funny, ma.”

  “What, I know you ain’t popping shit?” The girl took a defensive stance. It was just then that Tracy walked up on her. Her eyes were wild and glassy and her lips looked like they didn’t want to move when she talked.

  “Little girl, please act like you want it, because I sure wanna give it to you just for wearing that ugly-ass dress,” Tracy told her. The girl took one look at her and had second thoughts about the seats.

  “I ain’t got no time for hating-ass bitches.” The girl flung her weave and stormed off.

  “Tracy, your ass is too much.” Tionna slid onto one of the vacated seats.

  “You were standing up a few seconds ago, so don’t get cute, Ms. T,” Tracy said. She snorted like she had something stuck in her throat and kept dabbing her nose with a napkin. Tionna, Boots, and Gucci exchanged knowing glances, but nobody said anything. It was a discussion that they would save for a later date.

  No sooner had Tionna turned to the bar to place her order than the bartender was sitting a shot of Patrón in front of her. “I didn’t order this.” She looked at the glass suspiciously.

  “Compliments of the gentlemen down there,” the leather-clad barmaid told her, motioning toward a group of guys sitting at the other end of the bar. Tionna’s eyes widened as she recognized the man raising his glass.

  “Gucci,” Tionna nudged her with her knee, “look who sent this shit over.” Tionna slid the glass to Gucci but kept her eyes on the sender. Tracy intercepted the glass and threw it back.

  “Ain’t that ya old boo, T?” Tracy fought back the tingling at the base of her throat. You didn’t taste Patrón right off, but you felt it when it got there.

  “Bitch, you got jokes,” Tionna hissed at Tracy.

  Gucci adjusted her shades and zeroed in. “I ain’t seen that paranoid-ass nigga at nothing but strip clubs in I don’t know how long. Let me find out that the word done got around that you’re back on the block. You gonna go talk to him?”

  Tionna rolled her eyes at the sender. “Fuck him. Let that nigga come to me.” She turned her back and crossed her legs while she waited for the inevitable.

  CHAPTER 14

  Happy was feeling himself when he stepped out that night. He was dressed in a black suede shirt and dark blue True Religion jeans. He rocked both his white and yellow gold chains, with a rocky gold bracelet and his biggest pinky ring. Yesterday he had come up on a shipment of hammers from Wisconsin and had successfully unloaded all of them by that afternoon. He was a few stacks heavier and a whole lot happier. It was a night for celebration.

  Happy was a man who didn’t believe in going out to public venues alone, which was why he had snatched three wayward souls from the projects to accompany him to Big Dawg’s listening party. They were knuckleheads and had no direction to speak of, but Happy realized that they would do just fine if something popped off and he needed someone to take a bullet for him.

  “Yo, it’s mad joints in here,” little Ron-Ron said. He was actually thirty-one years old, but they called him “little” because he was just a shade over five feet tall.

  “I don’t know what you getting all excited for when you know you ain’t gonna jump off in nothing,” Wise teased him. He was a brown-skinned jokester who wore coke bottle glasses that always seemed to slide down off his nose.

  “Why don’t you niggaz act like you got some class?” Happy scolded them while filling their glasses with champagne. They downed the bubbly like it was water and held their glasses out for seconds. With a sigh, Happy refilled their glasses and silently wished that he’d chosen another group of youngsters to roll with.

  “Hap, ain’t that the bitch from uptown you was fucking?” Lou tapped Happy’s leg. He was the quietest of the group, but that’d last only until he got enough liquor in his system.

  “I fucked a lot of bitches, Lou; you got
ta be a little more specific,” Happy boasted.

  “Not many that looked like this one.” Lou raised his arm and pointed to the opposite end of the bar. It was an awkward gesture because his arm was wrapped from fist to elbow in a cast. It seemed like every year he broke a bone.

  Happy’s weed-slanted eyes traveled the length of the bar and when they landed where Lou was pointing, he suddenly became very alert. It had been a while since last he’d seen her, but her face would be forever buried in his mind. Happy had met Tionna through his friend Bernie and his girl Boots at one of their card parties. From the moment he’d laid eyes on her he had been smitten. He knew Tionna had a man, but at the time they were on the outs, and Happy thought that he could sway her by showering her with gifts and trips, but it had proved easier said than done. It seemed like the harder Happy went, the colder she treated him, and something about the abuse turned him on. Happy had tried everything from giving her the down payment for a new car, which she and Gucci had spent on Fifth Avenue, to proposing in an attempt to make Tionna his alone, but her heart would always belong to Duhan.

  “Shorty looks good as hell,” Ron-Ron said, not even realizing that his hand had strayed to his crotch.

  “Don’t be looking too hard at what belong to me, ya hear?” Happy told his minions while he counted his money out in the open. He wasn’t worried about somebody robbing him because it was mostly singles and twenties that he liked to flash for the sake of stunting. He kept his real money in a pouch that was safety-pinned to the inside of his boxers, and there weren’t many people willing to go there.

  “Last I heard, she belonged to that nigga Duhan,” Wise said, rubbing it in.

  “What the fuck he gonna do with that when he looking at about twenty years. Shiiit, the way I hear it, that nigga is looking at about twenty years, and that’s if he’s lucky. That jailbird-ass nigga can’t do nothing for that sweet piece of candy, so it’s up to a nigga like me to get in where I fit in. To be honest with you, he need to be thanking a boss nigga like me for trying to keep his bitch draped.” Happy thumbed his nose like a boxer going into a fight.