by K'wan
Wendy twisted up a blunt of some shit that smelled like scorched honey. Dena didn’t usually smoke with people that she wasn’t familiar with, but the weed smelled too good to pass on. As soon as she hit the weed and felt it tickle, her lungs she knew it was that sticky. After about four or five tokes she was starting to feel real good.
“Who wants candy?” Lisa sang, pulling a sandwich bag full of off-white powder from her purse. Dena had never tried it, but she knew cocaine when she saw it, or so she thought.
“Whooo-wee, you holding that brown!” Shorty said, looking through the rearview mirror.
“If the white don’t get you right—,” Lisa began.
“You can get down off the brown!” Cinnamon finished the cadence.
Lisa scooped a small amount of powder onto her pinky nail and inhaled. She was trying to hold back the sneeze that was building in her nose, but lost it, sprinkling the back of Ice’s seat and neck. “Shit!”
“God damn, Lisa!” Ice yelled, wiping the back of his neck with his sleeve.
“I’m sorry, Daddy; you know this shit be up in a bitch’s sinuses.”
“Lisa, you are such a fucking pig,” Cinnamon said, taking the Baggie from Lisa. She dipped her fingernail into the powder and started snorting it greedily.
“The both of you bitches ain’t nothing but some hypes.” Wendy shook her head. “Where the hell is y’all manners; did you see if the ladies wanted a bump?” Wendy motioned towards the other passengers.
“I’m good,” Roxy said, smoking the blunt down to a clip.
“What about you, pretty lady?” Lisa draped her arm around Dena.
Dena stared at the Baggie that Cinnamon was now trying to hand to her. She felt like all eyes were on her, waiting to see what she was going to do. She glanced up to see Ice silently watching her in the rearview mirror. She wanted to impress him, but not enough to tamper with the foreign drug. “I’ll pass,” she said, pushing the Baggie away from her.
“Some people ain’t ready for grown folks business,” Lisa said, snatching the Baggie and dipping back into it.
Dena felt slighted, but didn’t let it show on her face. She ignored Lisa and took the blunt when it came back around, but then she glanced up and saw the look of disappointment on Ice’s face.
Somewhere along the line, the plans got changed, and instead of going to the 40/40 Club they ended up at a spot called Shooter’s. Dena was a little bit leery about going to a strip club at first, but it actually wasn’t that bad. It was tastefully decorated with modern furniture, and it had a beautiful glass horseshoe bar. Dena could tell that Black Ice was somebody important. From the bouncers to the bar staff, everyone showed him love. He took it all in stride, but kept glancing at Dena to see if she was impressed. Of course she was, but she would never tell him that.
Cinnamon and Lisa were clearly on another planet. Their eyelids were heavy, and occasionally Dena would catch them scratching like they had hives. Dena had heard that coke made people hyper, but they seemed to be the opposite. Cinnamon’s legs almost gave out on her twice, and she even threw up just before they walked inside the club. Wendy rubbed her back while Lisa looked on laughing. Black Ice yanked Cinnamon upright by her arm and whispered something in her ear that seemed to sober her up a bit.
After procuring a table big enough to accommodate them all, Ice ordered four bottles of champagne and a liter of Hennessey. Before the waitress had sat the bottles down good, Sharon and Roxy were at it. It was obvious that the girls weren’t used to quality drinking from the way they greedily gulped down the bubbly. Wendy was looking at them like trash, but Ice acted like he didn’t notice.
Dena sipped her glass and watched Black Ice over the rim of it. At the video shoot he was cool, but he seemed out of place among the thugged-out rappers. Within the walls of Shooter’s he seemed more at ease. This made Dena more curious about his character. At some point the girls she had come to know as Cinnamon and Lisa disappeared, leaving Ice, Shorty, Wendy, Dena’s crew, and the two girls they brought with them from the video shoot. The champagne had loosened everyone up so much that you’d never know that most of them had only met hours prior.
“This spot is tight,” Roxy said, looking around. From the way she was dressed, you couldn’t tell if she was a patron or an employee.
“You’ve never been here?” Black Ice asked.
“Nope.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Sharon mumbled. Roxy flashed her a look, but didn’t want to cut up in front of Ice.
Dena was sitting there taking in the scenery when she felt a presence looming over her. She turned around and looked up at the security guard from the video. He had traded in his T-shirt for a black thermal and a pair of blue denim jeans, cuffed over construction Timberlands. A nice but not gaudy cross hung from around his beefy neck.
“Hey.” Dena smiled up at him. “Raheem, right?”
“Correct, Ms. Dena, how you doing?” He smiled back at her. His eyes briefly took in her company and came back to her. “I didn’t know you did this spot.”
“I don’t, I just rolled in with some people.” Dena motioned toward the table.
“Sup, Ice?” Raheem said to the man at the head of the table.
“You,” Black Ice said, raising his glass. Though his face remained totally neutral, his eyes watched every move Raheem made around Dena. Ice was protective of his flock.
“You in here choosing?” Raheem asked sarcastically.
Black Ice sat his drink down and looked directly at Raheem. “Duke, the only thing I choose is what color diamonds go best with my outfit. I get chose, cousin. Can you dig that?”
Raheem smiled, but there was nothing genuine about it. “Yeah, I can dig that. So.” He turned to Dena. “I didn’t know you ran in the fast lane.”
“Baby boy, I’m in here with some people drinking, so don’t get it twisted.” Dena snaked her neck.
“My fault.” He raised his hands. “Yo, if you get a minute come see me by the bar and I’ll comp you for some drinks.”
“Oh, you got it like that, huh?” Dena asked.
“Yeah, I got a lil pull in the joint. This is me and my man’s spot,” Raheem boasted. “When you’re ready, come see how the other half lives.” He winked and walked away.
Ice didn’t turn to watch as he passed, but he kept his eyes on him. “You sure you’ve never been here?” he asked Dena.
“Don’t play ya self. I met son on the video shoot. He was security on Stacks’s trailer,” she reminded him.
A dancer wearing a purple thong and matching top strutted over to their table. Though her face bore some sort of tribal scars, she had a body straight out of a triple-X flick. Without waiting to be invited she grabbed an empty chair and pulled up to the table.
“Mr. Ice, what’s going on?” Scar asked in a husky voice. She had lost most traces of her West African accent, but it still came out when she was making an attempt at being sexy.
“Moving and shaking like I do, Scar,” Ice said pleasantly. The girl radiated sex appeal, but Black Ice was unmoved by her presence.
“Damn, Scar, you looking good as hell,” Shorty said. He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth, but it wasn’t lit. “When you gonna let me tap that pussy again.”
Scar slipped her hand under the table and rubbed Shorty’s crotch. “Shorty, you know you got too much dick for this old pussy. So, Ice.” She turned back to him. “I see you’ve added some new flavors to your catalog.” She let her eyes roll over the five new faces.
“Nah, baby, they don’t know nothing bout this life here.” He swept his hands through the air.
“The young ones, maybe, but these two—” she pointed at Roxy and Sugar “—they know something.”
“What, you trying to call us hos, or some shit?” Sugar asked defensively.
Scar gave her a throaty laugh. “Didn’t mean to offend, ma. All I’m saying is that you two are very pretty. You know, a girl could make a lot of money in this place.”
> “I can’t see myself shaking my ass in front of a bunch of horny niggaz for dollars,” Roxy said.
“Beats doing it for free.” Scar gave her a wink. “Ice, I gotta go on soon, but I’ll see you later.”
“Without a doubt.” Black Ice smiled. He watched Scar walk away, thinking how much money he could make with her on the team.
“She’s a friendly one,” Dena said, snapping him out of his daze.
“Yeah, Scar is good peoples,” Black Ice said.
“I’ll bet she’s more than just good peoples,” Dena teased.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Yeah, right.”
“That’s the gospel.” Black Ice raised his right hand. “Me and Scar are friends. Actually, its more of a business understanding.”
“Speaking of business, what exactly do you do?” Dena asked. She glanced over at Wendy, who was smiling sheepishly.
Black Ice tried to keep his face serious, but there was a smile trying to creep onto his lips. “I told you, I’m into adult entertainment.”
“Seems more like pimping to me,” Monique said, letting Ice know she was hip to his bullshit.
“Sweet lady, there’s no such things as pimps. And if so, I sure as hell don’t fall into the category. What I actually do is manage girls in the business. You know, booking gigs, making sure they get to and from the locations? Pretty much anything that’s needed of me to make sure they’re good.” It was a variation of the truth, but he didn’t want to turn Dena off by giving it to her raw.
“How admirable of you,” Dena said sarcastically.
Black Ice just shrugged. “I do what I do to get by.”
“Looks like you’re doing more than getting by.” Sharon lifted the expensive pendant on his chain.
“I do a’ight.” He gently removed her hand and slid a little closer to Dena. “So, tell me about yourself.”
“Not much to tell, really. I’m just a chick from Brooklyn who isn’t content to stay in Brooklyn. By hook or crook, I’m gonna live the good life one day.”
“Ambition is a good thing.” Black Ice raised his glass of Hennessey.
“Sitting on my ass ain’t gonna get me out.” Dena raised the glass of wine she had been sipping on.
Black Ice was about to follow her comment, but stopped when he caught sight of a familiar face across the room. “Dena, come over here with me right quick.” He stood up and extended his hand.
“Boy, you must be crazy, I ain’t going to no VIP with you!” she said defensively.
Black Ice laughed. “Girl, when I try to bed you, it won’t be in a dive like this. I want to introduce you to the owner.”
“A’ight.” She got to her feet. “But if you try some funny shit, it’s on!” she said, before allowing him to lead her across the room.
As they crossed the crowded club, Dena tried her best not to come in contact with any of the exposed flesh, but it was damn near impossible, with wall-to-wall naked women running around. Dena lived in a house with two other women, so it was nothing new to her, but seeing your sister or mother change clothes was nothing compared to the flesh parade at Shooter’s. The girls seemed as comfortable with their nudity as she did fully dressed.
When Dena looked to the stage she had finally solved the mystery of where Cinnamon and Lisa had disappeared to. The women were onstage gyrating and licking each other, while bills of all denominations rained at their bare feet. It was simply amazing to her how out of control men got around the scantily clad women. Dena wasn’t gay or even bicurious for that matter, but there was something about the show the women were putting on that wouldn’t allow her to look away.
Lisa, who was the taller of the two, stood wide-legged in the middle of the stage, wearing nothing but a pink thong and clear heels. Her large, silicone-filled breasts bounced stiffly every time she moved. Kneeling in front of her was Wendy. A thin film of sweat covered her body, giving her an autumn-colored tint under the club lights. Her large ass rested on the heels of her feet, occasionally popping one cheek after the other to get the crowd going. With her tongue lolling from her mouth like a winded dog, she beckoned for Lisa to come closer. Resting one leg on Cinnamon’s shoulder, Lisa enjoyed the oral sex performed on her while the crowd cheered them on.
“You enjoying the show?” Black Ice whispered into Dena’s ear, startling her.
“That shit is so nasty.” Dena turned her eyes away.
“Don’t knock it til you try it.”
“Sorry, strictly dickly,” Dena checked him. Reflexively, her eyes cut back to the stage.
“Dena, the female body is a beautiful thing. There’s nothing wrong with admiring it,” Black Ice told her, as he stroked the back of a passing stripper. The girl stopped to see if he wanted a dance, but Black Ice tipped her a five and sent her on her way.
“If I wanted to admire a female body then I’d admire my own,” Dena said.
“And quite a body it is,” Ice traced a finger across her cheek. Dena felt chills when he touched her, but mustered the strength to pull away.
“Watch those hands,” Dena told him.
“What’s the mater, you don’t like to feel good?” he asked.
“Who said it felt good?” she challenged.
“You did. Oh, you didn’t say it out loud, but I saw the look in your eyes. Why you keep fighting what you and I both know is in ya heart, girl?” He reached out to touch her again. This time she wasn’t so quick to pull away.
Black Ice’s skin was almost as soft as hers. The overhead lights played tricks on his freshly polished nails as he brought his other hand up to caress her cheek. The band of his diamond pinky ring was cool against her skin, but his hands felt like warm silk. Dena stared into the depths of his brown eyes and found herself swallowed up in them. Her brain screamed for her to pull away, but her body wanted—no, needed—to be touched. When he leaned in closer to her face she could smell the sharp congnac floating through his perfectly bowed lips. He was going to kiss her in a room full of people, but Dena didn’t give a shit, all she knew was that she wanted it. She closed her eyes in anticipation of his mouth, but instead felt nothing. When she opened her eyes he was staring at her with a smirk on his face.
“Lets go see my man.” He took her by the hand.
Dena didn’t know whether to be embarrassed, insulted, or turned on, but what she did know is that she would have to dip off to the bathroom soon to try and pat dry some of the moisture that had built between her legs.
Chapter 24
MARCUS SAT IN THE BACK OFFICE OF SHOOTER’S listening intently on his cell phone. Billy had just delivered the news about the shooting and sounded upset. Raheem had told him the story already, but he didn’t know that Yoshi had been the victim. He felt bad for Yoshi, because whenever something bad could happen to her it did. He had first met her back when she was still dancing. Back in those days, he was the man at Shooter’s but didn’t have a stake in it. She had always gotten along well with him and his sister, Cat, and always carried herself like a cool-ass chick.
“How is she?” he asked sincerely.
“She’s still doped up off whatever they gave her, but she’s good. They wanna watch her overnight just to be sure; but if all goes well she can go home in the morning,” Billy told him.
“You need me to drive you?”
“Nah, I’m sure my moms will let me use her car.”
“You need to quit bullshitting and let me get you a car,” he said.
“Marcus, like I told you before—”
“I know, I know, you make your own money, and all that fly shit,” he said, cutting her off. “Making your own money is cool, but if you’ve got somebody in your corner that’s willing to help you, then why not let them?”
“Marcus, you know how funny I am about that kind of thing. I’m just used to doing for myself, ya know?”
“Yes, and I applaud you for that, but everybody could use a hand up sometimes, Billy,” he said. “Tell you what, why don’t we go half on
a car. We can go down to VA and get you something used from an auction. We’ll make a weekend of it.”
“As long as its not this weekend. You know I’m coaching that game Sunday,” she reminded him.
“You’re really going through with it, huh?” he asked, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.
“Hell yeah, Don B is paying me a nice piece of change for a few hours of my time. Why you sound all like that about it?”
“Billy, you know how I feel about them niggaz,” he said, as if she didn’t already know. Marcus had witnessed firsthand the savagery their little clique was capable of, and he didn’t like it. Cat and Yoshi worked the same clubs, so it could’ve easily been her. Though the offenders were dead and gone, he looked down on the crew as a whole.
“Baby, you know ya girl is good. They know I command respect,” Billy said.
“Gangsta, gangsta,” Marcus sang.
“Ain’t about being a gangsta, it’s about setting yourself apart from the rest. Now, getting back to my car …”
“You funny, Billy. Nah, but lets try and do it next weekend, though.”
“You think Shooter will give you the time off?”
“I think the old man and Raheem can handle it,” Marcus said louder than he had to.
“I got your old man, nigga!” Shooter grumbled from the love seat where he was watching the baseball game. The Red Sox were handing the Yankees their heads, and he was pissed about it. “You need to have ya monkey ass on the floor checking my trap, instead of sitting back here like you running some shit.”
“Tell the old man I said hey,” Billy giggled.
“I’ll do that. But let me get to it before I have to fuck this cat up,”
Marcus said, tossing a balled up piece of paper at Shooter. “Keep me posted on Yoshi though.”