Chapter 4
T he club was turned up when I arrived. Vegas had invited me out to hang with him and his family tonight in VIP. I was all for that shit. I didn’t really do clubs like that anymore, but I could deal with being in VIP, away from the thick of things. Niggas had problems with minding their business these days.
When I got to the staircase for VIP, I handed the bouncer my ID. After giving it back, he removed the velvet rope and gave me a head nod. I ascended the stairs, glancing out at the crowd to see what I could see. Women were everywhere, either grinding on a man or each other, scantily dressed, leaving nothing to the imagination. I couldn’t say I didn’t like it, but if I had a woman, there was no way I would make her comfortable enough to wear no shit like I saw.
One woman was literally wearing only pasties and a thong. Jungle’s sister, Fawn, used to do shit like that. She would put a sheer overlay on it, as if that made the shit any better. When I reached the top of the staircase, I noticed where they were. When I saw Fawn up dancing in some tight shit, I chuckled. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. I knew she probably didn’t remember me, but I surely knew who she was.
Everyone in H-Town knew who the Pattersons were. They ran most of the shit, which was why niggas were always trying to infiltrate their operation. Hating asses. By the time I got deep in the game, Fawn had already moved to Atlanta, and I was so far down the chain of command, Jungle probably didn’t remember who I was. Vegas made it his business to know everybody. That was part of his job as the second in command.
After glancing at a couple of women, I made my way to Vegas. He smiled, something he rarely did on the streets. It caught me off guard. He stood, and I slapped his hand as Jungle stared at me with a frown on his face. I wasn’t sure if he was upset that I was here or if he was just trying to figure out who I was.
Vegas turned to him and asked, “You remember Harlem? He used to run for you. We were on our way out when he got bigger though.”
Jungle stood, his frown deepening, and said, “Yep. What’s up?”
He extended his hand, and I shook it, although I was hesitant. Vegas looked confused, and I could see the silent communication between the two, because Vegas frowned slightly. When I sat next to them, I asked, “Jungle, what’s up, man? You got a problem with me being here? I mean, I don’t know why you would, but if you do, I’ll leave. I ain’t looking for static.”
He stared at me a little longer, and I didn’t allow my gaze to waver either. I had a feeling this had to do with Mo. What he didn’t know was that I didn’t have nothing for that grimy ass nigga either. I noticed a couple of guys were watching our interaction, like they were waiting on the word go. He slid his hand down his face, and said, “Naw. We good. When you left H-Tine?”
“About six months ago.”
He nodded as I relaxed against the back of the couch and looked around. There were a lot of people in VIP. A nigga with tatts all over the place was watching me closely. I remembered him too. He was a hustler for the Pattersons at some point. I believed his name was Ali. A barmaid approached us to get drink orders. As I told her what I wanted, the most beautiful woman in the club came into our area with Vegas’s lady.
When she noticed me, her eyes widened slightly. She looked around the area nervously, then said, “Hello, Mister Moore. What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Doctor Mott. I’m cool with Vegas. He invited me out.”
I could see her swallow from where I sat. The way her dark skin glistened under the club lights… I swore I wanted to see what it tasted like.
She nodded then sat across from me as Vegas’s lady nudged her. I could clearly tell they were sisters now. They resembled too much not to be. I scanned her body slowly, memorizing every curve. When my eyes lifted to her face, they met hers. She looked away but almost immediately brought them back to me, as if daring me to say more.
She didn’t know who she was fucking with. I was only restraining myself with her because I actually cared and didn’t want to offend her. Standing from my seat, I made my way to the vacant area next to her. I sat kind of close, and surprisingly, she didn’t try to scoot away from me. She turned to me and asked, “What do you do for a living, Mister Moore?”
“Outside of your professional space, I would much rather you call me Harlem. I’m a business owner. I own a few trucks that do hot-shot delivery, mostly to and from refineries.”
“Hmm. Where are you from?”
“H-Tine. You know something ’bout it?”
“Yep. That’s where I’m from.” She turned in her seat, angling herself toward me and tilted her head. “You used to be a street nigga, huh?”
I gave her a slight smile. “Why? Is that something you like?” I asked as I leaned forward a bit.
“That question only required a yes or no answer.”
I straightened up slightly, and said, “Yeah, I used to be. That a problem?”
“It could be,” she said then scooted over toward her sister. “That’s how you know Vegas, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said as I rubbed my hand down the top of my head.
She obviously had a problem with street niggas. I couldn’t believe she was from Houston, and we had never met, knowing that we kind of ran in the same circles, especially since she knew Vegas and Jungle. I reached for her hand, and she gave me a slight smile. I had a feeling she was about to shoot me down, but I opted to shoot my shot anyway.
“So, Yunique, can I have your number? I would really like to get to know you better.”
She frowned slightly as she glanced down at our hands. “You can get to know me here. The only number you need is the number you called to make an appointment. Besides, I’m not interested.”
“Bullshit. I intrigue the fuck out of you. I can see that in your eyes and the way you damn near drinking me in. Be real.”
“I’m going to be getting married soon. That real enough for you?”
I lifted her hand, not seeing an engagement ring, and she snatched it from me. “Naw. That ain’t real enough for me. What man you agreed to marry that didn’t put a ring on that beautiful finger? You don’t even strike me as the type to accept a proposal without one. Since you don’t want to be real, I’m finna be real. I scare you. You don’t want a street nigga, because that was all you ever knew. I ain’t tryna hurt you. I just wanna see how far we could go… together. I’m done with that street shit and playing the field. I’m ready for the real deal.”
She turned away from me, and I could see her take a deep breath. When she turned back to me, she said, “I really am about to get married. I’m going to set everything up Monday.”
I frowned. What in the fuck is she talking about? “What’chu mean, set it up?”
“I’m going to Arranged Hearts. I’m tired of meeting riff raff. I don’t want the headache of filtering through the bullshit. They will do all that for me and match me with a future spouse.”
I frowned slightly. “They have a company here that does that?”
“Yes. They have an office in Houston too.”
“Well, shit. I may need to go do that shit, too, since you don’t want to get to know me. I’m willing to bet we’ll get matched though.”
She frowned. “What makes you think that?”
“Because deep down, I’m the kind of man you want.”
“Nique! Come on, heifer!”
I looked up to see a pretty, high-yella complected woman yelling for her. They looked to be stepping. I supposed they were in a sorority or whatever. She glanced at me then stood, leaving me alone to watch her pretty ass step. Her body moved with ease, with such fluidity. She was smooth. When she rolled her body, I wanted to grab my dick. She was teasing me, and I was all for it… for now.
As I watched her, I knew I would be going to Arranged Hearts, too, just to see if I was right about what I felt from her. For some reason, she seemed nervous around me, no matter how hard she tried to appear on the outside. Something about street niggas didn’t sit too well with her. She was going to find out that I was a smart nigga. I was good at reading people and piecing shit together. That was a quality trait I developed, being in and out those trap houses and dealing with fiends.
As I watched her, I felt someone sit next to me. When I turned to see Jungle seated there, I turned straight. “I know who you are. Hopefully, you ain’t here on no bullshit.”
I frowned slightly. “What’chu mean? I didn’t doubt that you knew who I was. Vegas too.”
“He remembered you hustling for us but didn’t know that Mo was your father.”
I frowned harder. “I mean, I wouldn’t even call that nigga my father. More like my sperm donor. How you knew?”
“Ice. He always told me everything. Yunique is my homegirl, practically my sister, and I think you should stay away from her.”
“Nigga, what?”
He nodded repeatedly. “You heard me. I will dip back in the game real quick when it comes to family. Don’t think I forgot or that I’m rusty.”
I stood, and he did as well. We were staring each other down. Something was going on. His voice sounded hostile, but I didn’t see that same shit in his eyes. “Hey. What’s going on?” another woman that resembled Yunique asked.
“Nothing for you to be worried about, Sasha. Harlem was just leaving.”
I turned my lip up and nodded. When I saw Vegas approaching with a frown on his face, I gave him a head nod and made my way to the exit. I was clearly outnumbered. There were at least six other niggas watching our interaction. I had Vegas’s number, so it wouldn’t be the last they heard from me. I wasn’t angry, but I knew there was some shit in the past that I wasn’t privy to.
When I got to the exit, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Vegas standing there. “What’s up?”
“Man, I didn’t fucking know. I never saw you around his shady ass.”
“That’s because I didn’t have dealings with him. So thank you for ridding the earth of his ass.”
He frowned hard. “What’chu know about that?”
“The streets talk. I know it was you. I don’t give a fuck either. What all that shit got to do with me talking to Yunique?”
“You remember Yonkers?”
“Yeah, vaguely. He was in Ice’s firing squad. Why?”
“That was her father.”
I slowly shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. “Is that supposed to be something significant?”
“You really don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“There’s some trauma there. It’s not my place to say, but Jungle is right. You pursuing Yunique won’t end well. I can promise you that.”
With that, he walked away, leaving me scratching my head trying to figure out what the fuck they were talking about.