Watch Out for the Big Girls (6 page)

 

Prime, also known as the Prime Minister, for ruling the streets with an iron fist, was a well-known figure all throughout the city of Las Vegas. He earned his name by being a very diplomatic person. He was either the perfect friend or the worst enemy. There was no in-between with him. A person always knew exactly where they stood with him. He was definitely a man of respect and exercised his power strategically. That made him a hard target; that and the fact that he was rarely ever seen. The only time he really stuck his neck out in public was when he was at his favorite spot relaxing and unwinding with his crew.

Prime loved the energy in Treasures. It was the only place he really liked showing up to show out at. He took pleasure in squandering his money in the establishment. He loved watching the women go crazy when he made it thunderstorm in the club with the bricks of singles, fives, tens, and twenties he would have the club manager bring him. While others tipped and took women to the VIP room and maxed out their credit cards on lap dances, Prime and his crew tossed enough money in the air in a single night to pay rent for every dancer in the club for at least six months. Although it was against the rules and forbidden, usually the night always ended the same after Prime and his crew turned up and balled out in the club. Many of the dancers would rush to get dressed and pack up their belongings so they could pile up in the convoy of luxury cars Prime and his crew had parked outside. There was no reason to think that tonight would be any different.

“So then what happened?” Prime asked with a blatant sarcastic smile, not believing a word of what he was hearing. He and his crew were up on the second floor in their personal VIP section. It was a section that had been solidified by them for the longest.

Young Clips continued the story that everyone knew he was concocting as he went along. They wondered if he actually ever realized it. “So, yeah, anyways, I got the bitch up in my ride. We was kissin' 'n' shit and I'm feelin' all on her titties 'n' shit. I stuck my hand down her pants and started fingerin' her. She started goin' crazy, busting off right then and there.” Young Clips grew more excited as he told his alleged tale.

“Hold up!” C-Class interrupted, while laughing over the music, along with everyone else. “You mean, Felicia? Felicia, Felicia?” he asked with extra sarcasm in his tone.

Young Clips instantly became pissed off. C-Class was ruining both his story and what he believed to be his shine, he thought. But nobody else believed him. Not even Prince, who was known for being the simple one out of the crew.

“Yeah, Felicia. She a stone-cold freak! I twisted her out right there on the spot,” Young Clips added.

“Whateva, nigga! It's a well-known fact that Felicia is a stone-cold dike. And no disrespect, homie, but you ain't getting enough paper to make her want to change her mind!” C-Class retorted. The rest of the crew snickered and joined one another in laughter.

Young Clips was the youngest member of the crew. He had been accepted into the crew because he was a live wire and, most importantly, loyal. His gun constantly went off and he was also the leader of his own little team of younger, wilder gunslingers who only looked up to him because he was in Prime's crew.

C-Class and Young Clips went back and forth, while Prime was off in a daze. His focus was on the beautiful woman who sat at the bar. He noticed they had made eye contact as she sipped on her drink. He studied her and sized her up.
Nice,
he thought. He believed he was good at reading people and something about her look told him she had a hell of a story behind her. Prime excused himself from the VIP booth and made his way over in her direction. His crew watched as he glided out of their section and down to the public bar. Once they realized his destination, they resumed their conversation and drinks.

Finally,
thought Monica. After attending Treasures every Friday for the past six months, she was more than confident that this night would be the moment she had been waiting for. She sat at the bar with her legs crossed and scanned the crowd while she awaited the female bartender to service her. Many times, guys would approach her, but she brushed them off politely. She needed to stay focused and, more importantly, alone.
Don't blow it,
she reminded herself.
Play your cards right tonight and the reward will be worth the risk,
she reasoned.

As the months passed, she had gotten to know more and more about the Double Gs. Through observing, listening, and being shown, she had pretty much learned the normal flow of operation of the organization. But tonight was something different. This was officially her first mission. This could make or break her. The thought of it had Monica on pins and needles.

The bartender finally emerged and made her way over to Monica and smiled. Monica recognized her immediately. She had first seen her outside Club Panties the night Felicia had gotten into it with the female security guard. She saw her again inside the club. She remembered her being among the group of Double Gs who sported their organization's club colors. They danced and chanted together to their favorite songs.

The bartender leaned in closer to Monica and propped her elbows on the countertop. “And how may I help you?”

Monica returned the smile, and a bit of nervousness swept throughout her entire body. She took a deep breath to help calm her nerves. The last thing she wanted to do was blow her chance before it came. She pretended not to recognize the bartender. She got into character.

“Umm. I would like a blue martini, with two lemons, one lime, no ice, and an umbrella straw.” It was an order that she had rehearsed for a month before she had ever entered the establishment.

Since Felicia had recruited her, she was responsible for Monica. She made sure Monica was clear on the specific order and knew what she had to do. Monica knew the drink order all too well. She often dreamt about placing the order in her sleep.

Apparently, the bartender was quite familiar with it also. She raised back upright. She flashed an even broader smile. “Okay. Comin' right up. Ummm, will that be all?” she vibrantly asked.

“For now,” Monica boldly stated. Her butterflies began to settle. The bartender nodded and then disappeared.

Monica spun her rotating stool around and faced the lounge section. She watched everyone who was indulging in various forms of entertainment. She evaluated every person she laid eyes on. She couldn't help but feel as if she, herself, was being watched. She knew she was from both sides at that. It was the whole point.

Within a matter of minutes, the bartender returned with the drink. She made sure to catch Monica's full attention before dropping the professional smile and making stern eye contact. She slid Monica a small hand-sized drawstring pouch. Monica noticed it had something of weight inside of it. The quick transaction seemed to go unnoticed as Monica slipped it into her Gucci bag. She then rose up from the barstool and made her way to the ladies' room without even paying for her drink. She was quite sure it was complimentary. Once she had reviewed and secured the content, she returned to where she had been posted up for most of her evening in the club. Less than five minutes after returning to the bar, she detected movement and a sudden presence approaching out of her right side periphery. She took a short breath and put on her game face.

When Prime reached the female at the bar, he did a quick scan and took her appearance all in. She stood and greeted him with a welcoming smile. Prime nodded. The first thing he noticed was how her almond skin glistened creating a golden tint to her complexion. It reminded him of Taral Hicks, who played Keisha in the movie
Belly.
Her nose was small and round. Her eyes were wide and almond shaped. Her lips were small but full with bright red lipstick on them. Her hair was cut in an old-school Halle Berry style. But what stood out the most was her physique. She was cornbread thick, just the way he liked them. He played her natural height for five foot nine or ten, but her stilettos made her appear taller. She was between 190 and 200 pounds, give or take, but she wore it in all the right places well, he noticed.

There is nothing like a full
-
figured, sexy
-
ass black woman,
thought Prime. Any imagination could capture just how explosive her thick, curvaceous body was. Her breasts illuminated at the top of her red strapless, form-fitting Dior dress. The dress hugged her tight waist and stopped just past her protruding hips, making her ass appear 3D. It sat up and out enough to set a drink or two on it. Prime was impressed. It was evident to him that she had class, and an independent aura about herself: other traits Prime was attracted to. Prime stood directly in front of her. He leaned over on the bar right beside her and motioned for the bartender.

The bartender flashed him a smile and came right over. “What's up, Prime?” she asked, knowing that he rarely ever came over to that particular section.

“Ain't nothin'. Give me another two rounds of whatever she's having,” he requested, never taking his eyes off the mysterious woman in the red dress.

The bartender scurried to fill Prime's order.

The girl smiled at Prime. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she flirtatiously asked with a seductive grin she appeared to be trying to hold back.

Prime smiled back at her. “Nah. You look like a big girl, and I mean that as a compliment, who can hold her own, without getting into anything she can't handle.” He flashed a Colgate smile. “I'm just tryin'a get
you,
period.” He backed his smile up with a wink.

She blushed. “You got a name?” she asked.

“Yeah. Prime. Yours?”

“Monica,” she replied. “But people call me Moe.”

Just then, the bartender returned with the drinks and set them between the two of them then backpedaled away out of earshot of their conversation.

Meanwhile, Freeze sat in a separate VIP section on the opposite side of Treasures. He popped bottles of rosé and assorted flavors of Cîroc with his crew. They were known for being much wilder in the streets than most of the squads that were Treasures's regulars. They also had their own private booth that was exclusively reserved for them whenever they entered the luxurious establishment.

Like Prime and his crew, Freeze's group popped bands and tossed stacks of money into the air nonstop. They poured out and sprayed more champagne than they actually drank, as the exotic dancers rotated performances for them.

Tonight, Freeze had been more laidback than usual. He had a lot on his mind. He sat and listened partially as his team openly discussed many topics, mostly about business. He was receiving a full report after not being around for an entire week.

“So, we took care of them niggas up the hill. They won't be giving us no more static. They know they have no other choice but to move out. And they can only get their work from us. We basically only have to worry about them jokers over there, and we got shit locked,” Esco declared, while pointing directly over to Prime's crew.

For some reason, Freeze seemed distant to Esco. He was used to his boss's feedback, but he noticed he hadn't really been in any of the previous conversations that his crew was indulging in. Esco tried to switch it up, making light conversation.

“But fuck them dudes! Our plan is almost in full effect. On the other side of things though,” Esco said, and leaned in closer and smiled harder, “holla at ya boy. You ain't even fill me in on what happened with you and them two thick-ass twins you took home from here last week. I don't see them in here tonight. Give me the rundown.”

Freeze's eyes grew cold as his face turned to stone. He simply stared back at Esco. He tried to conceal how the question had immediately rubbed him the wrong way before his flared nostrils gave him away. He pretended not to hear Esco's question and didn't bother to reply. The last thing he wanted to talk about was the night that had officially forever changed life as he once knew it. He still couldn't believe he had gotten caught slipping. There was no way he could ever let something like what had happened to him get out. There was no one he could confide in, not even his right-hand man, Esco. He was sure he and anyone else would look at him differently. He knew he would not be respected the way he was now by his crew and in the streets, and he had to do everything in his power to ensure that it didn't get out. The thought of it infuriated Freeze the more he thought about it. The incident was still fresh, but he was already contemplating his next move on how he intended to handle the matter.

The night was coming to an end as bodies poured out of Treasures. Freeze and his crew made their way out of the club. They couldn't help but notice Prime's crew posted up in their VIP section surrounded by a dozen or more of some of Vegas's finest.

“Look at them niggas over there frontin'. I'm ready to give it to them right now,” Esco barked, gripping the Glock in his waist. His speech was somewhat slurred. The liquor had long ago taken effect on him and was now doing the talking.

He had been in Freeze's ear all night about Prime's crew. Watching them ball out frustrated him. One would say he was actually hating on Prime and his crew, but Esco would beg to differ. Normally Freeze wouldn't have been so easily influenced, but after what he endured, he was up for a good testosterone challenge. It was just what he needed to restore the feeling of manly power that he had lacked since his run-in with the twins.

“Word. Let's go see how they actin'. Right here. Right now. They're in our way. It's time to move them,” Freeze declared.

That was exactly what Esco wanted to hear all night. He took one last swig of the bottle of Red Berry Cîroc he had been taking to the head the entire night and then slammed it down on the table. His nostrils flared and his facial expression transformed into a deadly one.