Section 8 Page 13

  “Here he go on his mack shit.” Lou slapped the bar, laughing.

  Happy whispered something to the bartender and slipped her a twenty-dollar bill. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He turned to Lou and Wise. “All that fake mack shit you kicking is for the movies, G; what I’m doing is real. A queen,” he cut his eyes at Tionna, “is only gonna respect a king. You little niggaz bust out ya notepads and watch how a real player lays it out.” He motioned to the scene unfolding.

  Happy watched in anticipation as the barmaid placed the shot in front of Tionna. They exchanged a few words and his heart soared when she pointed in his direction. He raised his glass in salute, to which she responded by frowning and sliding the drink away from her. His soaring heart went down faster than the drink her friend finished for her when Tionna turned her back to him.

  “Yeah, man, we sure learned a lot, Hap,” Lou said slyly.

  “See, that’s why your muthafucking arm is broken now, because you always got your mouth in some shit that don’t concern you,” Happy snapped.

  “Hap, I know you ain’t gonna let shorty style on you like you ain’t that nigga?” Wise tried to hype him.

  Happy knew how Tionna could get, so he wanted to leave it alone, but he had to save face in front of his l’il homeys. “You know better than that.” Happy slid off the bar stool. “Y’all niggaz give me a second.” He bounced in Tionna’s direction. Knowing that the threat of drama loomed, the three stooges followed Happy.

  “Bird sighting at three o’clock,” Boots said when she saw Happy coming their way.

  “Oh Lord, I hope this pear-shaped muthafucka don’t think he gonna be in here cock-blocking all night, because I will tell him about hisself. You better check that cat, Tionna,” Gucci said. She had been right there during Happy and Tionna’s twisted-ass courtship, so she knew firsthand how extra he could be.

  “I got this,” Tionna assured her, with her back still turned to the approaching Happy. Even when he was standing right next to her she still acted like she didn’t know he was there.

  “So it’s like that now?” Happy said to her.

  Tionna slowly turned around and gave him a fake surprised look. “Oh, what’s good, my dude?” Happy tried to lean in for a hug, but she held him at arm’s length and opted to give him a pound instead.

  “I hear, you, baby girl,” he said, not missing the snub. “So where you been hiding?”

  “I’ve been around, just ain’t been on the block,” she said, not wanting him to be too much in her business; though as many ears as he had on the street, he’d probably heard one thing or another already.

  “I can dig it. So, what you doing out and about? You know ol’ boy don’t let you stay out after midnight.”

  “I know you ain’t coming over here wit’ jokes, because you know my mouth is vicious,” she warned.

  “Indeed I do,” he said suggestively, staring at her lips.

  “Muthafucka, don’t play yaself, because your head stayed in my pussy more than it did in your hat.”

  Happy didn’t know that Ron-Ron was standing directly behind him until he heard him laugh. “Since you wanna be laughing and shit, you can drink water for the rest of the night, l’il nigga,” Happy barked on Ron-Ron, before turning his attention back to Tionna. “Damn, baby, I see you’re still cold as a muthafucka.”

  “My heart is on December all year around, boo.” She rolled her eyes.

  “So what’s up, Hap? Tionna the only one you see?” Tracy spoke up.

  Happy was glad for the tension breaker. “What’s up, Tracy? What y’all drinking?” Happy pulled out his bankroll.

  “Whatever you’re buying,” Boots offered.

  “I see y’all got the whole squad in here.” Happy looked down the line. When he got to Gucci, she just sucked her teeth and turned her back.

  “What’s good, my dude, I can’t get an introduction?” Wise tried to work his way into the conversation. He moved next to Gucci and extended his hand. “What’s up, baby? They call me Wise, and you are . . . ?”

  “I’m good,” she said.

  “Word? Yo, Hap, what’s good wit’ ya peoples? She think she all that or something?” Wise was clearly offended.

  “Don’t waste your time with that one, Wise. Gucci is a tough nut to crack,” Happy said.

  “An impossible nut when it comes to bird-ass niggaz,” Gucci shot back.

  “Ima let you have that one, because ain’t no wins in an argument with you,” Happy said.

  “So long as you know,” she replied.

  The bartender placed a bottle of Moët White Star and a bucket of ice on the bar along with some champagne flutes. “Crack this for me, ma.” Happy handed Tionna the bottle.

  Tionna studied the label and handed it back. “I’m good; you know I don’t drink this shit.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like Moët—in fact she loved the rosier—but she’d had a bad experience with White Star. She drank so much of it one New Year’s that she’d spent the entire night throwing up, and it had taken days to get the taste out of her mouth. Her girls knew the story, but she didn’t care to share it with the rest of the group.

  “I ain’t never seen a chick that didn’t drink Moët,” Ron-Ron said.

  “There’s probably a lot you’ve never seen, shorty,” Tionna said.

  “Like a toothbrush.” Gucci fanned her nose.

  “Fuck you,” Ron-Ron mumbled and walked away from the bar, followed shortly by Lou. Wise had struck out with Gucci but seemed to have established a connection with Boots, so he lingered around the girls with Happy.

  “This champagne shit is cool, but a bitch like me needs something stronger,” Tracy said, not really feeling how she seemed to be left out of the loop.

  “Well, order whatever y’all want, I got you faded.” Happy laid some bills on the table.

  “You ain’t gotta tell me twice.” Tracy snatched the bills and ordered for all of them. While Tracy waited for the drinks, Happy went to talk to some chicken head who had been giving Tionna the evil eye the whole time he’d been sitting with her. Gucci was thankful for the interruption so she could talk to her friend.

  “I don’t see how you let that funny-looking nigga run up in it, T,” Gucci said, glaring at Happy and the girl.

  “Because he’s a trick,” Tionna said simply.

  “That’s a good enough reason for me,” Boots said.

  “Trick or not, that muthafucka is a pain in the ass. No matter how many times you dis him, he keeps coming back. He reminds me of a herpes outbreak,” Gucci said in disgust.

  “Gucci, why are you always so hard on Happy?”

  “Because I can’t stand guys like him; he’s a fucking parasite,” Gucci said. She hated Happy and men like him because of what they represented. He was a dude who played the role of a big willie, always flashing and bragging, but had really not earned any stripes in the streets. True enough, he had paper, but all the money in the world didn’t compensate for the psychological baggage he brought with him. To Gucci he was nothing more than a man of low self-esteem who always acted like he was trapped in his second childhood.

  “But fuck Happy: we’re hunting bigger game tonight.” Gucci glanced over at the Big Dawg entourage camped out in the corner.

  “Gucci, I ain’t hunting nothing, I’m just trying to have a good time with my homegirls,” Tionna said.

  Gucci slid her shades down her nose and looked at Tionna. “Who do you think you’re fooling?”

  “What?”

  “Tionna, you think I didn’t see the look in your eyes when we came up in here? Shit, when Happy sent that drink down here, I saw the diva peaking. It’s only gonna be a matter of time before Harlem take hold of ya soul again and bring that glow back to ya skin.”

  “Gucci, don’t take the fact that I’m back in the hood as I’m back to my hood shit. I might lay my head on Fortieth, but that ain’t where my heart is right now. I’m trying to hold it down for my man and my kids,” Tionna said seriously. />
  “Tionna, let’s have some real talk between us.” Gucci took her shades off so Tionna could see that she was serious. “That ‘hold you down’ shit was cool for when we were smelling our asses, but we grown now, new rules and a whole new game. We gotta get this money, flip this money, and cuff this money. I ain’t got no man, because I ain’t met a nigga that can please me around the board. I keep running into the same two types of niggaz: the ones who are cute but broke as hell; and the ones who’re ugly with a little paper but is too damn possessive because he ain’t used to no good pussy, such as ya man Happy. With that being said, I take a little of this and that from each of them and Gucci is a happy camper.”

  “Gucci, I ain’t trying to have my pussy on loan. Those days died when I got with Duhan,” Tionna said defensively.

  “First off, T, I ain’t fucking every nigga I deal with. Some of them just appreciate having a bad bitch on their arm in the street and are willing to compensate for it. And furthermore, me and you go back like two flats, so don’t try to hit me with the I don’t fuck around line; but we ain’t gotta take it there this evening. Look, all I’m trying to tell you is that it ain’t no shame in living.” Gucci raised her hands in surrender.

  “No doubt, I’m gonna live a little, but I ain’t really trying to lose focus on what I’m out there trying to do,” Tionna said

  “So, where’re these Big Dawg niggaz that you was so thirsty to get all up on?” Tionna asked; changing the subject.

  “First of all, stop acting like a chicken head, and second of all, they’re in the corner over your right shoulder. Bitch, I made a positive ID before we sat down,” Gucci said, laughing.

  Tionna casually looked over her shoulder and scoped the Big Dawg entourage. “That muthafucka got more people around him than the president. How you plan to compete with that?”

  “Compete?” Gucci looked at her as if she’d lost it. “Gucci don’t compete, ma, you know that. Those fake Eurotrash bitches and them dressed-up project hos don’t count for much when a real bitch steps in the building; and the last time I checked, we was some real bitches, true?”

  “All day,” Tionna agreed.

  “I say we drink to it.” Tracy slid a shot glass of off-color liquid to each of them.

  “Tracy, what the hell is that?” Tionna eyed the glass.

  “It’s called a Slow Fuck.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll drink to.” Gucci raised her glass.

  “To a Slow Fuck.” Tracy threw her drink back.

  “To a Slow Fuck,” Tionna said and awkwardly downed her drink. She had barely gotten to enjoy the slow tingling in her gut before the bartender was setting another shot in front of her. Regardless of what she said, it was obvious that her girls were going to make this her coming-out party. It had been quite some time since she had let her hair down with her girls, and as she downed her third Slow Fuck, she decided that she would leave her troubles on the doorstep of tomorrow and make tonight all about her.

  CHAPTER 15

  The soft fall breeze played with the loose strands of hair that were visible from beneath his red Ed Hardy hoodie. The lime-green dragon seemed to glow in the dark recesses of the doorway he had chosen to finish his clip. From where he was standing he could see everyone coming in or out of the spot, without having to worry about being spotted himself until you were right on top of him, and by then it would be too late. Fishbowl-like sunglasses covered his eyes, but it didn’t stop their almost-restless moving. Some said he was paranoid, but he liked to think of himself as someone who just enjoyed living.

  He absently wrung his hands together like he was trying to wipe away something foul that only he could see. He had showered twice and washed his hands raw, but he still felt dirty. He always felt like that after he put in work. It was as if whatever had been animating his victims’ bodies stained him when he parted the two. On more than one occasion he’d thought about trying to explain it to somebody, but they already treated him like a Martian, so he stayed quiet about it.

  Tossing the clip, he stepped from the shadows and into the light. There were clusters of people around the club, stunting or waiting on line to get in. He took one look at the only thing standing between him and the listening party and knew he wouldn’t have to wait. The same hard-faced bouncer still manned the door, but the two drinks he’d snuck off and downed had loosened him up a bit. He made small talk with the guys and slick comments to the girls, occasionally patting someone down before letting them in. He was whispering something in the ear of a thick Spanish chick when he noticed a shadow appear in front of him. He opened his mouth to comment on the red hoodie, but when he saw the face beneath the hood, the comment died and all he could utter was, “Oh, what up, bl—”

  Animal raised his finger for silence. “You can finish that sentence at your own risk, but you and I know we don’t eat from the same tree no more, Pudgy.”

  Back when he was still living in California, he wore the name Pudgy with pride, but that was before Gutter had opened the gates of hell and given them all a glimpse of the devil’s true face. He was only supposed to be an emissary between his set and theirs, but he’d almost ended up a casualty of the war he was trying to help prevent. Gutter’s minions had kidnaped, beaten, and burned his ass before dropping him off ass naked on the 110 freeway. To make matters worse, they had put footage of him spitting on his flag and screaming “fuck the set” all over the hood. After the video, Pudgy’s credibility went out the window. Every other day it seemed like someone was taking shots at him. Eventually the hood got too hot and he headed east and re-created himself as P. That ruse only lasted for a second before word of what had really happened made its way to New York. The homeys didn’t kill him, but they turned him into somewhat of a mascot for the hood.

  “You know I ride by P now,” Pudgy said.

  Animal gave him what most would assume to be a smirk. “A man can go by a thousand names, but at the end of the day he can only be who he is. So what’s up, P? You gonna waste your time patting me down or just let me go on my word that I ain’t here to bring ya peoples no grief tonight?”

  Pudgy thought on it for a minute. He knew full well that if Animal wanted to cause a problem, there wasn’t much that he could do about it. The kid was a certified whack job who would give it to anybody that felt like they wanted it, but, more important, he had the power to make his life more miserable than it already was. “Yo good, fam-o.” Pudgy waved him through without being searched or charged.

  “I appreciate you.” Animal stepped passed him and into the lounge. As soon as he stepped into the throng of people he could feel himself on the verge of an anxiety attack. The music was almost deafening to his sensitive ears. Fighting back the urge to leave, he made his way to the bar and accidentally bumped into a short kid with a big head along the way. The kid made a face like he wanted to say something, but God was on his side when a shapely young Spanish girl grabbed him by the arm. The kid proceeded to exchange words with her and forgot about Animal, which was a good thing, because Animal would’ve surely let him have it if the kid had continued to clown.

  Animal ordered a vodka and pomegranate, which got him a funny look from the bartender, but she went off to fill his order. While waiting for her to come back with his drink, he observed the crowd. His eyes finally landed on the man who’d lured him out to the listening party, Don B. He was holding court in a small roped-off section that was erected under the DJ booth. His entourage was so thick that most of them had to party outside the rope, occasionally reaching in for something so people would still recognize that they were with the Don. Animal felt his heart swell with admiration at how the crowd hung on his every word. He somewhat understood Tech’s dislike for him, but there was no mistaking the fact that he was the man uptown.

  Animal slid his drink off the bar and ambled toward the Big Dawg entourage. As he neared, he locked eyes with a hard-faced black kid dressed in jeans and a flannel. The black kid played the edge of the rope, bobbing his
head to the music, but his eyes stayed on Animal. By that time, Animal was with within six feet of the area, moving to meet him.

  “What’s popping, blood?” Fully stepped between Animal and the roped-off area.

  Animal slowly raised his eyes from the drink he was sipping. “I don’t think we know each other, so why you over here talking to me, dawg?”

  “ ’Cause you about to invade my personal space. Who you know over here?” the kid grilled him.

  Animal could almost hear the fuse in the back of his head ignite. He looked into the kid’s eyes and saw the willingness to go the extra mile, but he wasn’t ready to cross the finish line, which already put him at a disadvantage when going against the Animal. He was looking to make an action movie, but it was about to become a horror. Animal could feel the blood superheating his hand as it hovered just above his hammer. The arrogant-ass kid wasn’t even going to see it coming. Just before Animal made the news, a respected voice put everything on hold.

  “Y’all niggaz be the fuck easy, we all comrades.” Don B. stepped from behind the rope. “Animal,” he greeted the youngster with a pound. “Why trouble gotta follow you everywhere?” he joked.

  “Ain’t about nothing. I was just coming to say what up and Billy Strong Boy felt the need to meet me halfway,” Animal said to Don B., but he kept his eyes on Fully.

  “You gotta forgive my nigga Fully for that; you know how them dudes out west get down,” Don B. said.

  “West Coast, huh?”

  “Killa Cali, nigga,” Fully said, throwing up a set that Animal recognized, but didn’t acknowledge.

  “Fully, knock that shit off; this is the kid Animal I was telling y’all about,” Don B. explained.

  Fully looked him up and down. “So, this is the big bad Animal, once of the illest young MCs in Harlem?”

  “I rap a little bit,” Animal said modestly. Truth be told, his eclectic way of thinking gave him a style that set him apart from the rest. His style was a cross between Large Professor and early Nas, with Ghost Face–like punch lines. Don B. had been on Animal for the better part of the year, but he was reluctant to leave the streets totally behind him and take music seriously.