Eve Read online

  “So, what you trying to tell me? Because I’m holding a lil weight, I’m fair game?” asked Felon, keeping his eyes on Bullet. They had been friends once, but time and envy could be a corrupter.

  “Easy, chief.” Bullet placed his hands on the table. “Anybody lift your goods, it won’t be me. And if I catch em, I’ll make em sorry they ever fucked with a friend of mine.”

  “Glad to know I’m still considered a friend and not a turncoat.”

  “Felon, I don’t care what you do for your bread, we always gonna be cool. I can’t say that I don’t miss you at my side.”

  “I wish I could say that I’m tempted by the offer, but you could always see through my lies.” Felon shrugged.

  “Yeah, I guess everybody ain’t meant to go down in history.”

  “Fuck history, my dude. I’m trying to secure my future.” Felon laughed. “Man, fuck the dumb shit. Why don’t you hang out for a minute? Eve and the girls should be here soon.”

  “Nah, I got some people to see. I just wanted to have a drink wit my nigga and see how you been.”

  “That’s love, fam. Let’s toast.” Felon raised his shot. “To friendship!”

  “And long paper,” Bullet added.

  The two men touched glasses and downed the liquid fire. Felon reiterated his invitation for Bullet to hang, but he declined a second time. After shaking hands and promising to stay in touch, Felon watched Bullet get up and blend into the crowd. He wondered who had been unlucky enough to garner the burglar’s attention for the evening.

  “What up, Felon?” a voice called out from his left. Felon glanced over casually as a Puerto Rican girl came into view. “Long time, huh?”

  Felon gave her a half smile and nodded. He ran her face through his mental Rolodex and tried to pull up her file. Shorty “had that.” She was tall and shapely, with a rose tattooed over her left breast. He knew her face but couldn’t remember her name. Her brown eyes drank him in as she invited herself to seat.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked seductively. Felon didn’t respond; he just continued to stare. “Well, let me refresh your memory.” She slid her tongue out of her mouth and wagged it at him. When she fully extended it, it easily touched her chin.

  “Oh, shit. What up, Carmen?” Felon said, remembering the wild night he had with her. Felon had met Carmen at an after-hours spot. Knowing who he was, she immediately jumped on his dick. Later that night, he took her to a hotel and gave her a shot. Her sex was all that, and her head game almost made him lose his cool. As she deep-throated him, she stretched her tongue under his balls and nearly to his ass. Shorty was a major freak.

  “I should punch you,” she said playfully. “How you gonna forget my name?”

  “I could never forget your name, ma,” he lied. “I’m just a lil high.”

  “Umm hmm,” she said, suspiciously. “So, what you doing up in here? I thought you didn’t do the club thing.”

  “I don’t. I just felt like stepping out tonight. Ain’t about nothing.”

  “You’re looking good, baby,” she said, looking him up and down.

  “You ain’t looking too bad either,” he said, returning her stare.

  “You in here by yourself?”

  “Nah, me and Butter rolled together.”

  “That’s what’s up,” she said, anticipating Felon inside her again. “I’m here with my girl, Cee-Cee. Maybe we can all get something to eat later.”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “What up, my nigga?” a feminine voice called. Felon knew who it was without even looking. Cassidy appeared from the crowd, with Rhonda and Eve in tow. When he looked up at Eve, he could’ve sworn he saw anger in her eyes. When she peeped him looking, she straightened her face. Interesting.

  “What’s up, ladies?” Felon said with an innocent smile.

  “Chilling. Who’s your friend?” Cassidy looked Carmen up and down.

  “Oh,” Felon said, as if he had forgotten about his uninvited guest, “this is Carmen. Carmen, this is Cassidy, Rhonda, and Eve.”

  “What’s up?” Carmen said in a very uninterested tone. “Felon.” she turned her attention back to him. “I’m about to go find Cee-Cee. I’ll see you later?”

  “We’ll see,” he said, cutting his eyes at Eve.

  Carmen didn’t miss the look. It pissed her off, but she didn’t comment on it. She looked at Eve and walked off. Had it been anyone else, Carmen might’ve popped a little shit, but she knew better. Though she wasn’t from Harlem, she knew what was up with Twenty-Gang.

  “Felon,” Cassidy said, sliding into the booth on his right side, “I don’t know why you fuck with these lil nasty bitches.”

  “Cassidy, you don’t even know her. How do you know she’s nasty?” he protested.

  “She just looks nasty.” Eve tried to slide into the booth next to Cassidy, but she stopped her short. “Hold up, Eve. Rhonda, come sit by me, so we can smoke this blunt. Eve, you sit on the other side of Felon.”

  Eve shot Cassidy a look and reluctantly went to sit on the other side. She slid into the booth, but didn’t acknowledge him. She thought about him with the freaked-out Puerto Rican and gritted her teeth. Eve didn’t know if she was tight because Felon had been all up in the girl’s face, or the fact that she was even letting it bother her. She had to shake it off and stay focused. There was too much to be done for her to be stunting who Felon was fucking.

  “What y’all drinking?” Felon asked, in a lazy tone.

  “You know I’m a classy chick, so don’t order me nothing hard,” Cassidy warned. “I’ll take a glass of white zinf, for the moment.”

  “I’ll take a whiskey sour,” Rhonda added.

  “You can get me—,” Eve began.

  “Nah.” He cut her off. “Just come with me. I can’t carry everything by myself.”

  Eve slid out of the booth and stepped to the side to wait for Felon. He eased out behind her, still holding his glass of Mo. Eve took in the measure of his mode for the evening. She nodded her head in silent approval of his outfit. She had never really seen Felon dressed up. Back when they used to hit local spots, his idea of dressed was a sweater and some jeans. Things had changed some since she went away.

  Felon didn’t catch Eve’s appraisal, but Cassidy did. She peeped her girl giving the new money man the once-over. She winked at Eve when they made eye contact. Eve stuck her tongue out and mouthed nosy bitch. Felon turned up his flute and drained the last corner of champagne. His placed the glass down and licked the remainder from his lips. Eve peeped that too.

  Butter shook the dice in his right fist while his money flailed in his left. There were about four or five other men huddled around him. Weed smoke engulfed the bathroom, largely in part to the blunt of Sour Diesel that hung from the side of his lips. The bracelet that dangled from his wrist looked like a string of tears when the dim light bounced off it. Butter had come in the bathroom to take a leak when he discovered the dice game. Being that he was a nigga constantly chasing paper, he saw it as a come-up.

  “Five to you, fam and I got ya man covered for his light-ass two,” Butter said, eyes sweeping every player. “Hold that!” Butter shot the dice across the dingy tile, skipping once before they hit the wall. The dice did their wicked dance while everyone looked on in awe. Duce was the point. “Shit!” Butter cursed. A seven-thousand-dollar two. Butter had only come into the club with about eight or nine thousand. It was still early and he hadn’t even begun to do it up.

  “Oh, shit!” someone shouted.

  “Five hundred he duce or less,” Teddy added in. He was one of the young boys Felon had recruited. He was sixteen years old, and didn’t give a fuck about too much of anything. Teddy had no home or family to speak of. All he knew was the street. Felon put him on, and he had proven a valuable asset. He was wild as hell, but Felon felt like he could help mold the youngster.

  “I’ll take that bet,” Spanish Carlos said, lighting a Newport.

  The roller picked
up the dice and went into his spiel. “You about to loose ya money, lil nigga,” Dre said, adjusting his crotch with his free hand. Dre was an old head who still fashioned himself to be hip. He was easily forty-five but tried to carry himself like he was twenty-five. He had on a pair of olive slacks and some knockoff Gucci loafers. Some of his teeth were missing, while others were rotting. Most he just covered up with gold. When he moved, his three gold chains clanged together, sounding like a ghost’s rattling.

  “Shoot the dice,” someone said.

  Dre went into his two-step and tossed the dice with a funny twist. They danced around, like nobles at some regal event, before they finally stopped and announced the winner.

  “One-hundred and twenty-third Street!”

  “Fuck!” Dre shouted.

  “Ante up, fellas,” Butter said, holding out his palms. Dre’s partner put two thousand in his left palm and walked away, broke and sucking his teeth. Dre dropped some bills in Butter’s right palm, but it felt off. After a quick scan through the bills, it only counted out to be thirty-five hundred. Butter looked at Dre as if he had asked him a strange question.

  “Hey, Butter, baby. You know, I’m good for it.” Dre smiled. “I’ll come through the hood tomorrow and drop the difference.”

  “You didn’t ace tomorrow. You aced just now,” Butter said in an easy tone. Some of the spectators had backed up a step or two, knowing Butter’s reputation for violence.

  “Hold on, Butter.” Dre lowered his voice a bit. “I know you ain’t stunting that short change.”

  “Dre.” Butter shrugged. “You lost. If I would’ve lost, I’d have paid you. Can I get mine?”

  “Butter…man, I got my lady here wit me and…”

  “I ain’t tell yo to blow ya cash, fam,” Butter said, hooking his thumbs into the loop of his pants. With his jacket pushed back, the butt of a pistol was visible. “Now, I ain’t got nothing to do with what got on between you and ya shorty. You play, you pay. Why we gotta do it like this?”

  “Butter, all I got is five hundred left on me,” Dre said, emptying his pockets. “Allow me that, man.”

  Butter knew how this was gonna play out. Dre was gonna give him a hard time about the money, plus he didn’t have it all anyway. He was having a good night and didn’t want to waste it by arguing with Dre. He was a short-change motherfucker and Butter should’ve known better than to bet such stakes with him.

  “A’ight.” Butter nodded. “Keep ya lil five hundred. Make sure you got my paper tomorrow, Dre.”

  “I got you, my nigga.” Dre made to pass Butter, but a firm hand held him up.

  “Chill for a minute.” Butter backed him up. “I’m gonna need some collateral. Take ya shine off.”

  “What?”

  “Ya shine, Dre. I need something solid to hold on to, until I get my paper. I got you, my nigga.” Butter smiled.

  Dre’s partner went to step over, but Teddy stopped him short. “Shhh,” he warned, placing a gloved finger over his lips. “This is grown folks’ business.” Dre’s partner looked down and saw that Teddy was holding a shotgun, sawed down to nearly the size of a handgun. He quickly retraced his steps and went to lean against the sink. Teddy kept one eye on Dre’s partner and the other on anyone else who might have felt some type of way about what was going on.

  “Why you gotta be on ya bullshit?” Dre said, seeing the armed youngster.

  “I ain’t tripping,” Butter said. “Dre, you still my nigga, but I gotta make sure I get mine. This ain’t personal.”

  Dre shot daggers at Teddy and Butter as he began to take off his rings and chains. He could imagine the look on his girl’s face when they got back to the party. He was supposed to be a tough guy, but he came back from the bathroom stripped? He could already feel it ringing off in his head. Butter was playing him, and it was something that he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

  Butter took the jewelry into his jacket pocket and flashed Dre a smile. “Don’t take it like that, yo. This is just business. Come see me later on and I’ll buy you a drink.” Butter strolled out of the bathroom, with Teddy bringing up the rear.

  A brand new Neptune’s joint was blaring from the speakers, so everyone rushed the dance floor. Felon and Eve bumped their way through the crowded club, trying to reach the bar area. Every so often, Felon would brush up against Eve’s butt. At first she thought it was an accident, but after the third time, she recognized it as flirting. When he got close enough to do it again, she backed into him and started swaying to the beat.

  Felon was almost knocked off balance by the unexpected move. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he couldn’t let his little homey show him up. Felon moved behind Eve and started lightly grinding against her. When she felt him becoming erect, she moved away. He tried to ease back behind her but she pushed him away, offering a naughty smile.

  When they finally made it across the room, she stepped aside and let him take the lead. Eve stood a few paces from the bar while she waited for Felon to order their drinks. She busied herself looking around at some of the people in the club. As usual, some of the girls had next to nothing on, their asses and chests hanging out. Eve saw nothing wrong with showing a little skin every so often, but the way they did it was tasteless.

  “Let me find out,” Felon whispered in her ear.

  She almost shivered. “Let you find out what?” she asked.

  “That you checking these niggaz out?” He winked.

  “Please. Can’t no nigga in here do shit for me. These cornball muthafuckas ain’t even my style.”

  “Yeah, right. I could see you digging one of these thirty-something-ass niggaz,” he teased. “Probably get yaself a sugar daddy and shit.”

  “Felon, you got jokes.” Eve chuckled. “At least it wouldn’t be a hood rat. I ain’t know you had a thang for them fake video hoes.”

  “You wish. You need to stop being so hard on men and let a nigga in.”

  “For what? So they can play with my feelings, then fuck me over? No thanks, Felon.”

  “Eve, every nigga ain’t evil. There are some good brothers out there, ma.”

  “Show me a guy that professes to be good, and I’ll show you a nigga that’s gonna bounce at the first sign of trouble. A nigga is always gonna be around when shit is good, but eventually they all go. It’s in your nature.”

  “Come on with that, Eve.”

  “Felon, it’s the truth. Every nigga I’ve ever known had an ulterior motive. They get what they want and abandon you. Present company included.” The last statement had slipped out in the heat of the moment. She saw the brief look of hurt flash across Felon’s eyes and wished she hadn’t gone there. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Me and men haven’t really seen eye to eye since my father was killed. Felon, I didn’t mean—”

  “Stop it,” he said, fake mushing her. A change of topic was in order. “So what you got lined up, now that you’re home?”

  “You know the routine. ‘Gainful employment,’ ‘stay out of trouble.’” She held her fingers up, mimicking quotation marks.

  “Where you trying to work?” he asked.

  “I don’t really know.” She shrugged. “You know me, I jack for my bread, but being on paper complicates that a little.”

  “Eve, don’t you think you’re getting too old for that? You’re about to turn eighteen, ma. Don’t you think it’s time for you to start acting like a lady?”

  Eve placed her hands on her hips. “Felon, I know you’re not preaching to me. You sell drugs and you’re lecturing me about growing up? What, you gonna be the one to grow old and retire?”

  “It ain’t like that wit me.”

  “Then what’s it like, Felon?”

  “We’re not gonna make this about me.” He flipped it. “I could’ve sworn we’re talking about you. Look, Eve. I ain’t gonna argue with you about it. All I’m saying is; you got a lotta potential, ma. Don’t waste that shit on the streets. You can be or do anything you want in life.”

  “Anything?�
�� she asked very seriously.

  “Anything,” he said, equally serious.

  “Your drinks, sir,” the barmaid called, breaking the moment.

  Eve took a step back and turned her eyes away. Felon paused, looking at Eve. He turned and retrieved the drinks from the smiling waitress. He handed her two and he took two. During the walk back to their table, neither said a word. No words needed be said. There was a sort of electricity between Eve and Felon. They both knew it, and they both knew it would have to be addressed sooner than later.

  “What’re you so cheesy about?” Cassidy asked, noticing the grin on Butter’s face.

  “Cause I’m so happy to see you,” he said, sliding into the booth next to her.

  “I’ll bet,” she said, not hiding the fact that she didn’t believe him. “Where you been all night?”

  “Mingling and shit,” he capped. “You know the hood loves me. Now come here and give me a kiss.” Butter pulled Cassidy to him in anticipation of throwing his tongue in her mouth. Cassidy smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s like that?” he asked, clearly disappointed.

  “Butter, you know I ain’t wit sucking all on no nigga’s face in public. I got you though, boo.”

  Butter sucked his teeth and sulked like a child, denied the privilege of going outside. He fancied himself as someone who knew all there was to know about women, but when it came to Cassidy, he was stumped. Even before he got his weight up, he had been courting the beauty. He showered her with affection and catered to her every want and need. Cassidy had it better than any chick he had ever dealt with, but she still fed him with a long-handled spoon. She knew he saw other women, just like she saw other guys, but she was his number one. Butter was trying to wife Cassidy, but she wasn’t having it. He would continue to bide his time, though. Butter was a man who was used to getting what he wanted.

  “What up, little sis?” Butter asked, turning his attention to Eve.

  “Taking it light,” she said, sipping her Hennessey Sour.