Section 8 Read online

  “The water is to flush the old shit, and the Baileys is to settle our stomachs for the new shit; the night is still young.” Gucci winked.

  “If you like it, then I love it.” Tionna sipped the cool Baileys. “So what up, we gonna keep our asses glued to the bar all night?”

  “Listen to you. An hour or go you was on some fake stuck-up shit and now you ready to swerve?”

  “I’m ready to sweat some of this liquor out.” She pulled Gucci to her feet and onto the dance floor just as the DJ took it back with Bell Biv Devoe’s “I thought It Was Me.”

  Tionna and Gucci were tearing up the dance floor with their old-school steps, drawing a crowd, when a handsome young man who had the build of an NBA player invaded Tionna’s space, trying to bounce with her. She tried to play it cool and move away, but he moved with her, and to her surprise he was very light on his feet. With the liquor playing devil’s advocate, she decided to let the kid have it. She pulled out her best House Party moves, jerking and twisting in front of him. She was swift with it, but he managed to keep up. When Mob Style’s Gangsta Shit came over the speakers, the entire place went crazy, including Tionna. By the end of the song, she was sweaty and the kid looked exhausted. When he tried to crack for the number, Gucci stepped up.

  “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Now break it up.” She looped her arm around Tionna’s.

  “It’s all good, ma; I just wanna talk to your friend for a minute,” he said, licking his full lips seductively. He had the look, with his diamond chain and chunky bracelet, but his swagger screamed square.

  “That sounds like a personal problem,” Gucci shot back.

  He laughed. “Damn, that’s some cold shit.”

  “Then get yaself a heavier coat,” Gucci replied, before pulling Tionna back to the bar.

  “Damn, Gucci, why you always hating? He was actually kinda cute,” Tionna said.

  “Please, that nigga ain’t holding. Did you peep them tired-ass shoes?” Gucci joked.

  “Your ass is so foul.”

  “Somebody’s gotta be. Tionna, your ass attracts more pigeons than week-old bread.”

  “Your ass is one to talk.” Tionna motioned toward a dude in a pair of suede pants who was giving Gucci the eye. He winked at Gucci and was rewarded by her turning her back on him. “Where the hell did Boots’ ass go?” Gucci looked around.

  “She probably took homeboy to the bathroom to suck him off.” Tionna laughed.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. That girl is like school on a Saturday.”

  “No class,” they said in unison.

  When the liquor and weed finally kicked into full gear, Animal managed to mellow out. Don B. passed out blunts and drinks while telling war stories of how great he was. Animal ignored him, opting to enjoy the music and watch the crowd from his perch on the armrest of the sofa. Next to him, Chip seemed to be in his own little world, which consisted of him and the iPod he was bumping. Animal had ignored him for most of the night, other than to pass or take one of the many blunts that were floating, but when he caught snatches of the song he was mumbling, it made him take notice.

  I lit up from Reno, I was trailed by twenty hounds/Didn’t get to sleep that night till the morning came around, the song went. Chip must’ve felt Animal staring, because he turned and looked at him. “What’s up?” Chip nodded.

  “Pardon me for staring, I just didn’t know anyone besides me knew what the hell Jerry was saying at the beginning of that verse,” Animal explained.

  “You know the Grateful Dead?” Chip asked, removing one of the earphones so he could hear Animal better. He was pleasantly surprised to hear that one of Don B.’s minions actually had an ear for good music.

  “I’ve got ‘Friend of the Devil’ on wax, but it’s all scratched to hell,” Animal told him.

  “I’ll burn you a copy and pass it off the next time I see you.” Chip raised his iPod. Then he picked up a blunt off the table and lit it. He took two deep drags and passed it off to Animal. “So, you’re about to sign with Don B., too?”

  Animal absently touched the contract that was folded in his pocket. “I’m thinking about it. How’s it working out for you?”

  Chip shrugged. “I don’t have to sleep in whore motels anymore, so I guess it’s cool. Don B. seems to think we’re gonna be the next big thing, but I’m not really tripping; I’m just happy that our music is finally gonna get out there.”

  “I can dig that.” Animal hit the weed. “It’s funny, man, because looking at y’all, I wouldn’t expect you to be a rap group.”

  “Yeah, I left my chain and gold teeth at home,” Chip shot back.

  “I didn’t mean no disrespect, my dude, I just meant that you don’t fit the normal criteria of what Big Dawg is usually looking for.”

  “I ain’t haven’t been around too long, but I get the feeling that as long as you can make a dollar for Big Dawg, you fit the criteria. I don’t let it bother me, though. Fully and Doze are the front men; I mainly work with the beats.”

  “Word, what kinda tracks you do?” Animal was curious now.

  “Check it out.” Chip handed him one of the earphone extensions and skipped to the correct track on his iPod. When the beat came on, Animal felt it in the center of his chest. It sounded like a distorted version of Jimmy Hendrix’s “Purple Haze,” but it was being played by a violin.

  “This shit is dope. Where’d you get the violin sample?” Animal asked.

  Chip looked at him like he was stupid. “Dude, we don’t fuck with samples. Everything you hear is us, including the instruments.”

  “You muthafuckas play, too? Now, that’s something you don’t see every day. I know you gonna have this joint as one of the singles off the album?” Animal inquired. Chip suddenly became very serious. “I ain’t mean to get up in your business.”

  “Nah, it ain’t that.” Chip looked around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in to whisper to Animal. “We got a million more like this one that we wanted to use, but Don B. vetoed them.”

  “That’s ignorant as shit. Why wouldn’t he use something as beautiful as this?” Animal knew that even if he never heard it again it would be a beat that would live in his head forever.

  “He said they weren’t radio friendly enough, that the public wouldn’t get what we’re trying to say. You know how the business is: if it don’t make dollars, then it don’t get played. We might be able to get it on a B-side, though, if I can get Doze and Fully to side with me to fight for it.”

  “See, this is the kinda shit that’s got me hesitant about taking this rap shit seriously. Music is too much about being marketable then being good,” Animal said.

  “I can dig it: music is supposed to make you feel good. Yeah, it’s lucrative as hell, but it’s supposed to make you feel something, anything. When I do this, I feel it in my toes, my heart, and my eyes. When I hear a track that I know is the shit, it’s like . . . like . . .”

  “Seeing in color?” Animal finished the sentence for him.

  “Yeah, just like seeing in color.” Chip smiled. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure No Doze wasn’t watching, he produced what looked like a birth-control carrying case and asked, “You ever been to Fantasy Island?”

  Animal’s face lit up as both of them recognized the bond they shared. “It’s one of my favorite vacation spots.”

  Over at the Big Dawg table, the party was in full swing, with bottles, blunts, and broads being passed around. The smoke was thick; the security ignored the smoking ban placed over the entire city because membership had its privileges. Chicks were throwing themselves at any- and everything that they thought was a part of the squad in hopes of getting their fifteen minutes.

  “Yo, you would think that this was a strip club, the way those broads are giving it up for Don B,” Tionna said when she noticed Gucci staring at the circus.

  “And his arrogant ass is eating it all up. The sad part is that most of them ain’t gonna end up with more than a hango
ver and a wet pussy,” Gucci said.

  “They think they game is so tight.”

  “Game?” Gucci looked at her. “Them niggaz ain’t got no game, it’s the flash of it all. Them niggaz is rappers; most of them still got that same hood-ass mentality, that’s why they getting all open off them bum bitches sweating them. They wouldn’t know how to handle a certified bitch.”

  “Talk about it,” Tionna ad-libbed.

  “As a matter of fact, I feel like getting on my bullshit tonight, just because my best fucking friend is out with me.”

  “Oh no! What you plotting on, Gucci?” Tionna was leery.

  “Let’s make our presence felt.” Gucci pulled out her hand mirror and made sure her makeup was tight.

  “We’re just gonna barge up into their shit?”

  “Hell no,” Gucci straightened her shades, “we’re gonna get invited.” She strutted off toward the Big Dawg entourage. Tionna just shook her head and followed.

  Twenty minutes after getting cool with Chip, Animal found himself riding a monster wave. The room swam in traces of brilliant colors and shades, behind his sunglasses, while the music wrapped him in a blanket of varying sensations. The heavy bass from the speakers pinched his cheeks like a kindly old woman, while the lyrics of the various artists fed his brain and added to his own creativity. All was right with the world.

  “Glad to see you’re finally loosening up,” Don B. said, invading his space. Animal looked at him and couldn’t help but think how much his glasses and beard made Don B. resemble the devil Tech had always made him out to be.

  “All is well. Me and the boy Chip was just vibing and shit,” Animal replied, keeping his thoughts to himself.

  “Yeah, Animal is cool as hell,” Chip half slurred. His eyes were almost completely closed and the joint between his fingers was threatening to burn him.

  “I’m glad y’all hit it off. I was thinking about paring y’all for some upcoming projects anyhow,” Don B. lied.

  “I’m down for whatever,” Chip replied, before drifting off into a nod.

  “This muthafucka here.” Don B. shook his head. “So what up? You ain’t fucking wit’ none of these broads up in here? You know when you’re a Dawg the world is your oyster.” He pinched the ass of a young girl who had wandered too close to the rope.

  Animal laughed good-naturedly. “I’m gonna be a dawg for life whether I sign this piece of paper or not, blood.”

  “Which makes it only more fitting that I have you on my team, little bro. But we can talk about business another day. You having a good time?”

  “Yeah, the scene is fly.” Animal looked around causally. Just beyond Don B., a woman caught his eye. Much like his, her eyes were covered by sunglasses in the dark lounge, meaning she had something to hide. He watched her cross the room like she owned it and found that he had a hard time looking away from her. It was like her body was radiating some magnificent light show that only he could see.

  “Yeah, them two broads could definitely get it,” Don B. said, picking up on where Animal was staring. “What up, you trying to snatch that?”

  “Nah, I’m straight,” Animal said modestly. He turned away, but found that his eyes kept wandering back.

  “Stop acting like that, my nigga: I told you this is all about us,” Don B. told him. He looked around until he found one of his underlings and waved him over. He whispered something into the young man’s ear and sent him off. Don B. turned back to Animal. “Trust in the Don, I got everything covered.”

  It didn’t take long for Tionna and Gucci to receive the full-court press. They exerted so much power and sexiness that they attracted the opposite and the same sex like flies on shit. Gucci stalked across that spot like she was on the biggest runway of her entire life, while Tionna got her money’s worth out of the tight-fitting heels. Their whole aura screamed bad bitches and the whole spot knew it, including Big Dawg.

  “Pardon me.” A dude who they recognized as part of Don B.’s crew approached them. He was wearing a Fendi track suit and a gold chain that looked like it weighed more than he did. “Miss, can I speak to you for a minute?” Gucci thought he was talking to her, so it surprised her when he approached Tionna. “My man was wondering if he could speak to you for a minute?” He pointed at Don B., who raised his glass in salute.

  Gucci twisted her face. “Tell your man that only chicken heads get sent for.” The dude looked like he was shocked by her refusal of his Don, but he went off to relay the message.

  Tionna whispered to Gucci, “I thought the whole point of coming over here was to get invited in. Don’t you think you’re pushing your luck?”

  “When you gamble, you play all or nothing, T,” Gucci replied. She watched the kid repeat what she had said to Don B., which made him laugh. Don B. said a few words to the kid in the hoodie sitting next to him. The kid looked like he was protesting, but Don B. eventually got him to his feet. Together they broke the protective circle and approached Tionna and Gucci.

  “What’s up, ladies? My hospitality ain’t no good?” Don B. was speaking to both of them but had his eyes on Tionna. Gucci got ready to hit him with a slick response, but Tionna touched her arm, letting her know she had it under control.

  “Hospitality is a wonderful and rare thing, but if you wanna get a lady’s attention, you don’t send one of your lackeys to ask her over, you do it yourself,” Tionna schooled him.

  “I’m here, ain’t I?”

  “With one strike against you already, you wanna try for two?” Tionna fired right back.

  Don B. raised his hands in surrender. “I conceded, Ms. My name is Don B. and I was wondering if I could get you and your friend to come over and have a drink with us.” He executed a mock bow. This made Animal snicker.

  “What, it’s funny when a dude knows how to talk to a lady?” Gucci pressed him. She could smell the shyness coming off the young boy and decided to fuck with him, but, to her surprise, Animal was quite the quick-witted one.

  “Nah, it ain’t that at all. You show me a lady, and I’ll show you a gentleman. Show me a bitch and I’ll show you a G; not saying that you fall into either category, of course.”

  “You gotta excuse Animal, he doesn’t think like everybody else,” Don B. joked.

  “Your mama named you Animal?” Gucci asked. He was cute, but he looked to be a little on the young side. She sized him up openly, trying to get an idea of what the man called Animal was about. From the brilliant chain around his neck she knew he was getting some type of cash, but he seemed out of place in a room full of street cats.

  “Of course my mother didn’t name me Animal.” He half smiled at the girl’s aggressive approach. He knew she was interested and so was he. “The story behind what my mama named me and what the streets recognize is a long one. You got that kind of time, Ms. . . . ?”

  “Gucci,” she informed him.

  “Your mama named you Gucci?” Animal teased her back.

  “Actually, she did,” she said seriously.

  “You got that one.” Animal made a motion like he was tipping his hat.

  “So, Gucci and company, y’all trying to kick it with us or what?” Don B. motioned toward their area.

  Tionna studied his face before answering, “I guess we can chill with y’all for a minute, at least until something better comes along.”

  Don B. laughed, while leading them back to the velvet rope. “Trust and believe that this is as good as it gets, ma.” He lifted the rope and welcomed them into the circle.

  As soon as they crossed the plain, Tionna felt it. The stares, whispers, and overall hate coming from the girls who thought they had already sewn up their positions. Tionna helped herself to a glass of champagne, rosier, and soaked it all in. It was just as Gucci had said: they recognized that a real bitch had just come on the scene.

  CHAPTER 18

  Happy was leaning against the bar, looking like he had lost his best friend. When he’d come back from letting the girl suck him off in the whip, Tio
nna was nowhere to be found. He told himself time and again that he wasn’t gonna deal with her anymore. After all, Tionna was self-centered and only out for his money, but being around her gave him a high like no drug he’d ever indulged in. It wasn’t because of the sex, though she fucked like a stallion, but being with her was forbidden. Tionna belonged to Duhan, which only added to Happy’s obsession.

  Happy and Duhan weren’t friends to speak off, but they were associated with some of the same people. They were getting their coke from the same person, a Jamaican kid from the Bronx who had it snowing in New York all year around. Duhan had weight by the boatloads, which is part of the reason that he found himself on the ass end of an indictment and about to take a long trip. Being that Happy and the kid went way back, he expected to succeed him, but, to his surprise, the Jamaican put Duhan in pocket. Happy had never seen Duhan as much more than a little project nigga throwing stones at the penitentiary, but Duhan had ended up surpassing him and forcing Happy to find other ways of supplementing his income. Duhan knew Happy only in passing, but the older man felt like Duhan was purposely stepping on his toes and he resented him for it. Happy had managed to fuck Duhan’s girl, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted his lady, and his connect.

  “Why you sitting there looking so sad?” Boots invited herself to the seat next to Happy. Her skin was sweat-slick and shiny from dancing and drinking all night. Her eyes were glassy and low.

  “Shit, I’m having a good time, what I got to be sad about?” Happy tried to front. Boots saw through it. “You ain’t gotta front for me, Hap, I know the look. Tionna got you over here feeling some kind of way. Why do you keep doing it to yourself?”

  “Boots, you tripping; ain’t nobody stunting Tionna’s ass. It’s plenty mo’ bitches round this bitch. If I don’t wanna go home alone, I sure as hell ain’t got to.”

  “I know that’s right.” Boots moved closer to him. He could smell the mix of musk and liquor coming out of her skin. Her hardening nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her blouse, drawing his eyes to them, as she had expected. “Wow, my mouth is dry as hell.”