“For real, Unc . . . this what’s up,” Dante followed up.
“Well, y’all gone and dig in and catch me up with shit.”
“What you want first? Distribution or that other shit?”
Dex filled his mouth with a forkful of food, and then spoke after he’d chewed for a bit. “You texted me some shit about Ace last night. Let me hear that first. I’m trying to get this fool squared away so he can shut his ass up. This muthafucka’s mouth is gettin’ real reckless, and I almost had to put his ass to sleep the other day—for good.”
“Awww, shit! Like that, Unc?”
“Hell yeah.”
“That ain’t good. That fool brings in a nice stream of income, don’t he?”
“Yeah, but I ain’t got a shortage of paper, so . . .”
Dante nodded his head. “True dat. And sometimes you do what you gotta do. I get it.”
“Mikhail, fill me in,” Dex requested.
Mikhail gulped down the rest of a tall glass of orange juice and set about spilling the details of the night.
“So, we hit that Suite 713 with him last night and ran into D.C. Caivano.”
Dex chuckled. “How did that go?”
“It was almost all bad,” Dante replied. “Them muhfukkas was about to square up.”
“Yeah, I wanted to see that shit bad,” Mikhail said, being the boxing fan out the group. “But you could tell that D.C. was tryin’ to take the high road.”
“D.C., the hothead? Really?” Dex queried, his interest piqued. “Nah, that shit don’t even sound right.”
“Shit, muhfukkas change they whole mindset behind a pretty face and some good pussy.”
All three men fell into belly laughs, having all at some point been deterred by the persuasion of a woman.
“Oh okay. So, he was with a woman?”
“Not just any woman . . . that was his main woman.”
“Main?!” Dex roared, with laughter. “You naïve or what? What you saw was a damn groupie trying to make sure she still had her hookup for the damn night! Guaranteed!”
Mikhail shook his head. “Nah, that’s his woman. Y’all don’t keep up with ESPN? Baller Alert and all that shit?”
“Nah, muhfukka!” Dante shot. “Fuck I look like following punk-ass celebrity news and shit? And my Unc fa damn sho ain’t.”
Mikhail leaned back into his seat, rubbing his stomach, after the satisfying meal. “Well, if y’all did, y’all would know that D.C. just got engaged. That was his woman he was with. I just happen to know because the bitch fine as fuck and I been in her spot plenty of times. She classy and shit. Not a regular broad.”
“This nig—”
“Sound like a muthafuckin’ groupie!” Dex interjected, guffawing loudly.
Amid the men’s laughter, Dex came up with the answer to a dilemma that had been plaguing him. He knew exactly what he needed to do and he knew just the person to do it. He had let Cody, his assistant, handle the first part of the plan. He thought that Cody was capable enough to carry the whole plan out, but he was slow to move and they had a small window of time to work with.
Dex was days away from launching what he thought was a master plan, but with the one that just literally fell into his lap, his issue was about to be laid to rest.
“Unc!” Dante shouted. “The hell you cheesin’ like that for, man?”
“Because, believe it or not, y’all just helped along a problem that was taking way too long to solve.”
CHAPTER 7
Chanel
Saturday night we went to Kin Khao. I was already starving, and ready to throw down with some serious Thai cuisine. I had been craving it for the past week, and since I wanted Kin Khao and nothing else, I was forced to hold off until everybody was available at the same time. By everybody, I meant Tracie and Quinton. While they denied it every chance they got, they were feeling each other. They were just slow to act, and it was really killing me! So, on the sneak, I was doing every little thing I could to throw them together.
“I love this place,” Tracie stated, looking around. “It’s so comfortable. Makes me feel like I’m at some sort of fancy picnic.”
I laughed. She was referring to the picnic-table-style setup. It was one of the things I loved about it. Seemed more welcoming than the fancier places around San Francisco. Glossy, wooden tables, with chairs comfortable enough to sit just for dinner, and a few drinks, made for a comfortable setting. They had the full bar going on, which was always nice, and the food was five-star.
“Yeah, you’ll see why a picnic table with unlimited room is the best scenario,” I said to Tracie.
“Well, I can’t wait to see. I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Quinton jumped in.
“Negative,” Tracie retorted, smiling hard at his comment.
Dario, in his quiet demeanor, reminded me of the Facebook meme, ‘I’m just here for the comments,’ because he had yet to speak a word. But knowing him the way I did, I knew he was waiting for the food before he got all in with the chatting. I reached under the table and softly rubbed along his thigh.
“I love you,” I mouthed to him, when he looked at me smiling. Tracie took that as her cue to start with the questions.
“So, when are you guys going to get married?”
I gave Tracie a growling glare.
“Yeah, I guess I wanna know that too,” Quinton said, swallowing down the honey-colored contents of his whisky glass. “I’m gonna need at least a month’s notice before I visit some tuxedo shop.”
Not that I was checking him out, but Quinton was a nice-looking man. He was confident in the way that he spoke, and the way that he carried himself. Part Samoan and part black, with a well-toned body, and goatee that gave his face model-appeal. Of course, he didn’t look better than my man, but he was definitely working with something nice.
“We just got engaged like eight seconds ago,” I stressed, laughing at their persistence. “Like, literally, just got engaged. We need to enjoy that phase for a bit.”
“Enjoy that phase for how long, though?” Tracie queried. “Are y’all gonna have one of those long-ass engagements? Because I never understood why couples did that.”
“Well, guess what, Trace? It’s not for you to understand.”
Quinton and Dario both began laughing at my response, and shortly after, Tracie joined them, pointing in my direction. “Okay, smart-ass, you got me.”
“Mm-hmm, you need to be worried about what you and Q got going on,” I remarked, turning the tables on her, knowing that she would be mortified. But if she couldn’t handle the heat, then she should never have stepped into the fire. “Because so far, all I’ve heard is ‘Oh, we’re just friends,’ and that’s it. Knowing that it’s way more to it than that.”
I felt Dario’s hand slide across my back, before pulling me closer to him to peck me on the cheek. “My fiancée has a point. I noticed that too . . . right along with the chemistry.”
“Aww, nah. I’m not goin’ there wit’ y’all,” Quinton chuckled, as he leaned back into his seat and gripped the sides of the chair. “Where’s the server? I’m ready to order.”
“Oh, now he wants to order.”
“I know, right?” Dario cosigned. “Can dish it but you can’t take it. How soft of you, man.”
“That ain’t me being soft, dude. That’s me being hungry and pleading the fifth.”
“The fifth? You pleading the fifth too, Trace? Or you wanna finally tell me how friendly you and Mr. Q are?” I asked. “Y’all got benefits attached? Full benefits or y’all like UPS with the part-time benefits? Inquiring minds wanna know.”
“Nooo you did not!” she giggled, covering up her mouth in embarrassment. “She went there,” she stated, turning to look over at Quinton.
The two of them looked so cute together. And there was something unspoken between them that I didn’t need for them to admit. It was in the way that Tracie mentioned him in conversation with a smile big enough to show damn
near all of her pretty teeth, and the way that Quinton looked at her during their mini-chats. Oh, I caught it, and it wasn’t just about me wishful thinking either. They had the makings of a cool relationship; they just needed to act on it and stop the foolishness.
“Yesss, I absolutely did go there.”
Tracie’s eyes lit up, as her laughing began to simmer. “All this came about because you wanted to keep from answering my question. They got a name for that—it’s called deflecting.”
“Whatever.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she mimicked. “I don’t think we’re getting an answer,” Tracie said to Quinton, while affectionately sliding her hand across his arm. “I think I’ll throw her a little bone. It’s only fair, right? Maybe I can tell my girl how once upon a year we almost had a relationship but then you decided that you wanted to dip in the snow bunny pond for a while.”
“Ohh, baby, she just took a dig at your peeps!” I playfully exclaimed, squeezing a chunk of Dario’s firm thigh.
Dario shook his head, while taking down a gulp of his glass of Jack Daniels. “How’s that a dig at me?” he asked. “I’m not a goddamn snow bunny,” he laughed.
“Don’t get dragged into this, D.C.,” Quinton kidded. “Tracie’s trying to take this somewhere that we ain’t goin’.”
“I already know the story. I’m just here for the commentary, so I can get a few laughs.”
“Aww, that’s fucked up!” Quinton blurted. “So, you’re gonna be a willing participant in all this then? You’re not gonna even have your boy’s back?”
“Afraid not, bud.”
“And here I thought we were cool, and shit.”
Dario guffawed loudly, at hearing Quinton try to evade the line of fire Tracie had him in front of.
“Man, you better plead the fifth, sixth and seventh. Or, just act like you never heard the question,” he suggested.
Quinton inhaled a long gulp of his replacement alcoholic beverage, before stating, “Smartest shit you said all goddamn night!”
They started cracking up together, each taking that time to finish off their second round of drinks.
Ignoring their actions, I declared, “So, Tracie, I still wanna know what this business about a snow bunny is.”
“Wellll . . .” Tracie started, after shooting Quinton a look filled with motive.
“Aww shit . . .” Quinton grunted, in anticipation.
“So . . .” Tracie continued, amid the interruption, “At a point, Mr. Quinton here, decided that he didn’t want me and was dating my boss’ sister.”
I looked over at Dario, just to see what his reaction would be, but he playfully looked toward the ceiling, as though he wasn’t a part of the exposé. When my eyes roamed across the table at Quinton, he was doing the same, silly thing, causing me to lightly nudge Dario against the head, before busting into laughter.
“This some kind of guy code?” I asked, through the laughter. “Y’all are something else!”
“Ain’t they, girl? All I can do is shake my head.”
Quinton took a giant swig of his drink, then asked, “Shake your head for what? For playing yourself
. . . and playing hard to get . . . and acting like you didn’t know what you wanted?”
“Uh-oh . . .” I lifted my glass to my mouth, in dramatic fashion, pinky finger up and all, and took a sip of my Martini. “This shoulda been tea in this glass!” I joked, placing the svelte glass back on the table. “See, I knew I could break y’all! This is what I’m talking about. Details! Gone and soothe this lil’ ole piqued interest of mine.”
“Quinton, I always knew what I wanted. Don’t act like you didn’t know what I wanted.”
“That’s not how you acted, though. You acted like I was disposable. I don’t know what you expected me to do with that.”
“I never acted like that.”
“From my viewpoint, that’s exactly what you did. A closed mouth don’t get fed—ever. I made myself real clear back then, and you chose to not respond to what was in front of you.”
Tracie lowered her head, in regret. And when she did that, I immediately felt like shit. I hated seeing her like that. I felt that I started something that I should’ve left alone.
“I don’t remember it happening that way, Q. I remember liking you and being hurt as hell when—”
I reached my hand across the table, waving it slowly in front of the two of them. “This is my version of waving the white flag,” I explained.
Tracie shot a glance my way, her pretty, brown face coated with a bit of distress. There was sadness planted inside her eyes.
“Don’t shoot,” I begged, lowering my hands. “I just wanna say that I’m sorry for getting you guys started. Let’s agree that this one . . .” I said, pointing to Tracie, “. . . stops with the third degree about me and my honey’s nuptials, and I stay up out of your little Love & Hip Hop situation.”
Happiness cascaded back over Tracie’s face, as she slowly formed a smile. She used the opportunity to shoot Quinton a flirty look.
“Deal,” she responded.
CHAPTER 8
Dario
I led with laughter when I asked Quinton, “So, how you enjoying date night?”
We ended up there because I had told him to come over to the bar with me to get more drinks. Chanel knew what I was going to do . . . because she had put me up to it! But to make it look good to Tracie, she asked, “Why y’all going over there when they can just bring them here?” Of course I laughed at her feigned ignorance and kissed her on the cheek.
“Date night . . .?” He sighed. “You doing standup tonight?” he asked, shaking his head. “Because let a real friend tell you that ain’t funny, dude. Spare yourself.”
I turned around and looked over at the table to find both Tracie and Chanel staring over at us. I wouldn’t in a million years tell Q that Chanel had urged me to ask him about Tracie. She was making it her mission to throw them together. Just like I told her, I’d let them figure that out. But in the moment, I couldn’t help but to tease him about the situation that he was so obviously trying to guard. When he was ready to tell me about whatever it was they had, he’d spill. In the meantime, I had an agenda of my own for leaving the table.
“We gotta order something to make it look good,” I told Quinton, as I waved over the bartender.
“Oh, okay,” he said, sliding onto one of the barstools. “Now, we can get to the real reason you got me over here.”
“Alright, I’m busted.”
“Yep. I knew somethin’ was up. Been knowin’ you too long, guy.”
“Ha! True.” After I placed the order for the girls’ peach and apple Martini’s and our scotch, I dove into the story before the drinks arrived. “I wanna run something by you. The other night I’m at Chanel’s club with her, and that raggedy-ass chump, Ace, was with a few of his boys, tryin’ to start some shit.”
“Ace Wilder?”
“Yeah, that bitch. Man, Q, when I tell you that I wanted to lay that motherfucka out cold . . .” I paused and shook my head.
“Why didn’t you? All that shit he’s been talkin’ and you got him face to face? You shoulda floored his bitch-ass.”
“He’s tryin’ to get some attention. When he’s ready to square up . . . and Chanel’s not around . . . we can do it. Chanel’s presence was why I didn’t touch him the other night. I couldn’t. You shoulda seen her, man. She wasn’t okay at all. Thought some fatalities were gonna happen. I needed to keep her calm and reassure her that everything was good. Aside from that, it was inside her club. I wouldn’t ever disrespect her place of business like that and send the value down. Especially, for a nobody. Fuck no.”
“I respect that,” Quinton said. I could tell that he was pissed. “Wish I’d been there. We could’ve taken shit outside the club, and away from patrons who might frown upon . . . whatever had to happen. What the fuck was he even talking to you for, in the first goddamn place? Y’all don’t fuck with each other.”
&nbs
p; “Hell nah, we don’t. And won’t ever.”
“You think he came there with the sole purpose of starting some shit? Like that was his only goddamn reason for being there?”
I was quiet for a few seconds, contemplating. “Nah, I don’t think that. I refuse to think that. Because if I thought for one second that he did, I would have to hunt his bitch-ass down and beat him worse than his last two fights. Fuckin’ pussy.”
“He’s a pussy, for real. Probably why he was with a fake-ass entourage in the first damn place. Can’t stand a weak-ass man,” Quinton expressed.
I laughed out loud. “His ass can’t even win a goddamn fight with gloves on. He for sure wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with me in a goddamn street fight. I really wanted to go there, though.”
“I bet you did.”
The bartender walked up to where we sat with all four drinks on his tray. “Here you guys go. Enjoy.”
“Thanks, man,” I told him, before picking up the tray.
While we were on our way back to join the girls, Quinton said, “Well, we see that dude again, don’t let him walk off and get the chance to keep running his mouth. His ass is probably butt-hurt that his fight with Shane Michaels is cancelled and just wants to try to get some focus on himself.”
I stopped walking. “See what I mean? Who the fuck cancels fights? Probably low ticket sales. Nobody wants to watch two punks throw punches at each other. Cocky motherfuckers, but neither of their asses can fight. I can’t even believe that Shane gets endorsements. He must have management that knows people . . . that know people. Because who the fuck wants him repping anything with their name on it?”
“Yeah, that’s crazy. But he won’t be getting anybody’s endorsements now. Not after being arrested for raping a woman.” I looked over at Q, my jaw dropped.
“Rape?”
“Yep. Can’t beat a man, so he uses his power on a woman.”
“But wait. Rape?” I asked, again, in disbelief.
“Yep. It’s been all over CNN.”
“So, that’s what that radio DJ was talking about when she brought him up in my interview. Shit, I haven’t even had time for television. That’s fucked up, though. His career is all the way over, I guess.”
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