Still Hood (17 page)
Authors: K'wan
“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 wantedâno, neededâto 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.
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.
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 beforeâ”
“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?”
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.”
“Alright, boo. Love you.”
Marcus cut his eyes over to Shooter, who seemed to be fixed on the game, before answering. “Love you too, boo,” he whispered before ending the call.
“If that wasn't the sweetest shit,” Shooter said, with his eyes still fixed on the television. “You having gal troubles again?”
“Nah, me and Billy cool,” Marcus said, coming around the desk and grabbing a folding chair, which he set next to the love seat and plopped down on. “Yoshi got shot.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Shooter sat up and turned to Marcus. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, took a slug to the collar, but she'll be okay.”
Shooter laid back down on the love seat. “Man, that girl gets into more shit than a little bit.”
“I know. Even when folks try to do right, wrong comes to them,” Marcus said.
“Ain't that the truth? So how's Billy holding up?”
“You know that girl is a pillar. She ride or die for her team.”
“Same as somebody else I know,” Shooter chuckled. “I always liked that girl. She a lil on the hard side sometimes, but generally a good soul. I still don't know what she doing wit ya old gangsta ass,” Shooter teased him.
Marcus laughed. “Sometimes opposites attract. I don't agree with some of her choices, but I love that girl, Shooter.”
“You're acting like you're telling me something I don't know. Damn it, Jeter, stop swinging at every pitch!” He took a moment to yell at the television before turning back to Marcus. “So, what you gonna do, lil nigga, poke around her, checking shit you already know is straight, or you gonna make sure you're in the crib when ya lady gets home?”
“Right as always, Shooter.” Marcus patted him on the shoulder.
“Don't I know it? I keep telling you, neglect that girl and you'll have a player like me tapping that pussy.”
“Shooter, you're wrinkled-ass dick couldn't do nothing with my lady,” Marcus said, laughing. Shooter tried to swat him with his cane, but Marcus was already slipping out the office door.
AS SOON AS MARCUS STEPPED
out of the office, the heavy bass from the speakers clapped him on the cheeks like a long-lost grandmother. Beautiful women pranced back and forth advertising their wares, and the dudes were tossing cake. It was barely midnight and the club was already popping. Marcus first checked with the DJ, then made his way over to the bar area to make sure everything was good. As he was whispering into the bartender's ear he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and found himself staring at Black Ice and one of his new ladies. He and Black Ice weren't friends to speak of, but Ice brought him a lot of business. On the nights he busted out his stable or hosted one of his locked-door parties, the club raked in a pretty penny.
out of the office, the heavy bass from the speakers clapped him on the cheeks like a long-lost grandmother. Beautiful women pranced back and forth advertising their wares, and the dudes were tossing cake. It was barely midnight and the club was already popping. Marcus first checked with the DJ, then made his way over to the bar area to make sure everything was good. As he was whispering into the bartender's ear he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and found himself staring at Black Ice and one of his new ladies. He and Black Ice weren't friends to speak of, but Ice brought him a lot of business. On the nights he busted out his stable or hosted one of his locked-door parties, the club raked in a pretty penny.
“Big Mark, what's up, man?” Black Ice gave him dap.
“Shit,” Marcus shrugged, “trying to keep these niggaz in line and my paper right.”
“Sho ya right, man. Say, I want to introduce you to a friend of mine.” He pulled Dena over. “Marcus, this is Dena. Dena, this is Marcus, he owns the joint.”
“Sup?” Marcus said pleasantly.
“Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand. Though she tried to look calm, Marcus could tell she was uneasy by the way she tried to look everywhere but at the naked flesh in the room.
“Your first time?” Marcus motioned around him.
Dena blushed. “Yeah, I've never been to a strip club.”
“Well, this isn't a strip club. Strip clubs are for hookers and drunks. This is a gentleman's club,” Marcus corrected her.
“Well excuse me,” Dena said.
“Its cool, people make the mistake between the two all the time. I've put a lot of work into establishing Shooter's as a place of leisure, and I take pride in it. You trying to get in the business?”
“Nah, she don't rock like that. She's a square,” Black Ice answered
for her. This surprised Marcus, because Ice wasn't known to associate with anything but whores, unless he was trying to break a new girl in, which Marcus suspected was the case with the pretty young thing at his side.
for her. This surprised Marcus, because Ice wasn't known to associate with anything but whores, unless he was trying to break a new girl in, which Marcus suspected was the case with the pretty young thing at his side.
“I hear you talking,” Marcus said, careful not to give away Ice's secret. Though he didn't agree with Ice's chosen profession, men like him helped keep the club running. “Ice, I got some things to take care of on the outside, but you know the lay of the land. If you need anything, just holla at Raheem.”
“Nah, I can do on my own,” Ice said with distaste.
Marcus shook his head. “Y'all two still carrying grudges?”
“Mark, you know I'm cool as a nigga on trial with no murder weapon, but ya boy takes his job too seriously. The nigga mad-dog all day long like he got issues, fronting muthafucka.”
“I hear you Ice, but running security for this place takes a hard-nosed cat. I guess he's living out the part,” Marcus shrugged.
Head of security, Dena thought to herself. And here this cat was fronting like he was the man. Dena didn't have a problem with him being a security guard, but he could've kept it one hundred with her. Lying was a big no-no in Dena's book. She might still try and tap his pocket, but his chances of getting the pussy had flown out the window.
“Well, let me roll out of here and handle my business,” Marcus said, giving Black Ice a dap. “It was nice to meet you miss,” he said before disappearing into the crowd.
“LOOK AT THAT BITCH,” ROXY
whispered to Sugar. For the past five minutes or so she had been shooting daggers at Dena and Black Ice while they mingled in the crowd, and it made her sick. “She hanging all over the nigga like that's her man, thirsty bitch.”
whispered to Sugar. For the past five minutes or so she had been shooting daggers at Dena and Black Ice while they mingled in the crowd, and it made her sick. “She hanging all over the nigga like that's her man, thirsty bitch.”
“She beat you to the punch, Rox. Fuck that though, I see some niggaz in here that look like they holding, anyway.” Sugar looked around. In the corner she spotted a short, light-skinned kid with his man in the corner, looking the role of Big Timers. They were sipping
champagne out of the bottle and flashing a big wad of money. “Matter of fact, I think I see our next marks. You bout ready to go?”
champagne out of the bottle and flashing a big wad of money. “Matter of fact, I think I see our next marks. You bout ready to go?”
“I've been ready,” Roxy said, giving Dena and Ice one last grill.
“Excuse us.” Sugar got up from the table, followed by Roxy.
Shorty gave them a disapproving look. “Y'all just gonna drink and run?”
“No disrespect, love, but it don't seem to be enough meat to go around,” Sugar told him with a smile. “Maybe once the crowd thins out we can talk about a nightcap.”
“That's a conversation I'll look forward to,” Shorty said, watching the two girls depart.
HOLLYWOOD BOPPED UP TO THE
front of Shooter's and busted his most serious gangsta lean. Trailing him was a kid from the hood, named Chris. Chris was a young boy who had yet to find his own way in the world, so he latched onto Hollywood. Unlike most cats in the hood, Chris actually bought into Hollywood's illusion. To him, Hollywood was the greatest thing since sliced bread.
front of Shooter's and busted his most serious gangsta lean. Trailing him was a kid from the hood, named Chris. Chris was a young boy who had yet to find his own way in the world, so he latched onto Hollywood. Unlike most cats in the hood, Chris actually bought into Hollywood's illusion. To him, Hollywood was the greatest thing since sliced bread.
“Yo, it's mad niggaz out here,” Chris said, looking across the gathering of people in front of the club. “I hope it ain't more dudes than chicks.”
Hollywood gave Chris the young-boy stare. “Man, do you think I'm gonna bring you to a spot that's not popping? Stop acting like a square. Come on.” He led the way to the entrance. When the bouncer lifted the rope, Hollywood palmed a fifty-dollar bill and slapped it into his hand. “Good looking, my nigga. How we looking?”
“You know Shooter's don't boast nothing but wall-to-wall ass,” the bouncer said, slipping the bill into his pocket. “Y'all go in there and get ya dicks wet off some of these big-butt bitches.”
“That's a bet.” Hollywood stepped inside, with an awestruck Chris behind him.
“Yo, did you slip that nigga a fifty?” Chris asked.
“Be easy, my dude. You know money come and go,” he said, handing Chris a thousand-dollar stack from his pocket.
“Good looking, my nigga!” Chris said, excitedly thumbing through the bills. As he felt the strange texture he frowned at Hollywood. “Nigga, this ain't real, this is prop money!”
“I know. I swiped a box of it off the set yesterday,” Hollywood whispered. “As long as we pay for our drinks with real money we're good, but these bitches is gonna be too busy trying to cake to check the authenticity of the dough.”
“Hollywood, you sure are a smart dude,” Chris said.
“That's why I'm the boss of Starving Entertainment.” Hollywood popped his collar.
There were no more tables available, so they had to find a spot at the bar. Luckily for them, two stools opened up at the end, where a dancer had just lured a young dude away. Hollywood and Chris took the seats and immediately ordered two bottles of Moët. The two cats sipped champagne and tipped strippers with the fake bills, playing the role like they were getting it heavy. They were contemplating running a train on a thick, light-skinned chick, when two sexily dressed ladies approached.
“Is this a private party?” Roxy asked, making sure to push her breasts out.
“By invitation only, but consider yourselves invited,” Hollywood said, offering his stool. Chris caught the hint and did the same. “Shorty, gimme two cups!” Hollywood shouted at the bartender.
“I see, y'all up in here doing the do?” Roxy moved closer to Hollywood, who was thumbing through a mixed stack of real and prop bills.
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