Chapter 14
One week later, Tasha, Niyah, and Shyann were at the hottest bar in town.
Even though it was Thursday, the bar was still crowded.
Girls dancing, heavy smoke in the atmosphere, distant chatter throughout the bar.
It was exactly what Tasha needed. She nursed her drink, the rim of her glass cold against her lips.
Niyah sat across from her, phone in hand, probably texting, checking on the kids, and half-listening to what Shyann was talking about.
“Bitchhh, I told y’all the bartender here was cute as hell,” Shyann said, tapping her nails on the counter. “Shit, if I wasn’t in a situationship, I’ll let him mix me a lil’ bit.”
Tasha rolled her eyes but forced a smile, swirling her straw in the glass. “Girl, you say that about all the bartenders. Just so your ass can get free drinks. But I ain’t mad at ya. Do you boo-boo.”
“Well, they all fine when you drunk. Just squint one eye, you’ll see,” said Shyann, squinting her eye. She leaned over the counter, batting her lashes at the bartender. “Hey, Mr. Bartender… you wanna go back to my room?”
Right on cue, Tasha and Niyah burst out in unison, dragging the words to Silk out. “My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my….rooooom.”
The whole table hollered, heads turning from adjacent seats, even the cute bartender cracked a grin. Shyann swatted at them both, laughing but still trying to look serious. “Yall play too much. I was being for real, for real.”
“Sure, you are, Shy. You’re always being for real, for real,” said Niyah, sipping her amaretto sour drink.
Tasha slapped Niyah on the shoulder. “Nah, let her cook. She been tryna find a man ever since that other nigga ghosted her months ago.”
“First of all, Tasha. That nigga didn’t ghost me,” Shyann shot back. “He just… went to prison. There’s a difference.”
The table fell out with laughter again. The bartender slid another round over with a grin. “This one on the house, ladies,” he said.
“Oooh, see? Tasha pointed with her straw. “He definitely wants you, Shy. Look how he tryna win you over.”
The bartender leaned over the counter, whispering for only the three of them could hear. “To be honest, ladies…. I want the same thing y’all girls want. Ya dig.”
Shyann almost choked on her drink at the revelation. “Dug!” She faced Niyah and Tasha, frowning. “Damn all that good meat ‘gon to waste.”
Once again, Tasha and Niyah looked at each other, and in unison, they said. “Literally!”
“Y’all two ain’t right,” Shyann smirked, shaking her head.
The music in the bar played Sammie, ‘I like it’, mixed with a trap beat, and the crowd roared. Niyah jumped up, pulling on Tasha’s arm.
“C’mon, bestie, you know this my song!”
Tasha rolled her eyes but followed, sliding off the stool, her curls bouncing as they made their way to the small dance floor. “Girl, you and these ‘ole ass songs.”
The music thumped through their bodies as the two were enjoying the moment. Shyann stayed back at the bar, inhaling smoke from her Hookah. She grabbed her cell out of her purse and decided to send a text.
Shyann:
I need some dick!
The reply came back almost instantly. As if it were scheduled.
My Secret:
Go the fuck on somewhere, girl.
Shyann:
Meet me! Before I send this li’l video to your girl supervisor.
Three bubbles appeared and then disappeared. Then appeared again.
My Secret:
Fuck you!
Shyann laughed out loud, swaying her shoulders from side to side, singing along with the music.
“Baby… baby…babyyy… Baby…baby…babyy…” she sang every word, knowing she was playing a dangerous game. But she didn’t give one ounce of fuck.
By the time they stumbled out of the bar, the laughter had settled down. The bar lights bled off the windows, painting the sidewalk pink and blue. Shyann was halfway through a fry she stole from somebody’s plate, still talking about the bartender straying away from pussy and rejecting her.
“I’m saying, I woulda never thought he had that August Alsina goin’ on. I wonder if he down to do a threesome. Humm…. I know he got a fine ass nigga at home.”
“Shy, you got a man, remember?” Niyah reminded her, holding her up from falling.
Shyann shrugged. “Shit, he got a baby on the way, so we fuckin’ even.”
“Wowww!” Tasha exhilarated. “You really not shit, but I respect it,” she said, shaking her head, laughing.
They crossed the lot toward Tasha’s Mercedes, the night full of music blasting from passing cars, laughter spilling out open windows.
The ‘D’ felt alive, like it had its own heartbeat.
When they reached the car, Niyah leaned on the hood.
“What y’all want to do now? It’s still early, and y’all know I don’t get out much, between the kids and clinic, I'm busy as heck. So, I wanna enjoy myself tonight.”
Tasha doubled over to adjust the strap on her heels. “I dunno, Juelz probably waitin’ for me to come on back home. He told me to take it easy tonight but have fun.”
Shyann's muscles tensed as she frowned. “Bitch, that nigga ain’t ‘gon be home.”
Tasha's smile faded as she put her hand on her hip. “How the fuck you know where my nigga at?” Tasha cocked her head to the side. “Lemme find out some shit.”
Shyann waved her off. “Girl, please, I don’t want your nigga. He ain’t my type, boo.”
They hopped in the car, and Tasha adjusted the rearview mirror, catching her reflection. Her lip gloss was half gone, her curls a little wild, but she was feeling good.
“Alright,” she said, tapping the wheel. “Let’s go feed Shyann's drunk ass before she starts throwin’ up in my shit.”
“I’m gooddd,” Shyann slurred. “Take… take me to my dick for tonight. I’m goooddd.”
The car erupted with laughter, and the night rolled on. Loud. Reckless. Real.
Across town, Juelz decided to hit up Mar’s house because the crew was there watching the game.
Tasha was out with the girls, and he was tired of pacing the living room.
Shyann had texted to meet up with him, but he knew he wasn’t going that route tonight.
Twenty minutes later, he was pulling up, already hearing the noise before he even stepped inside.
Laughter, a game running too loud on the TV, and the smell of weed mixed with fried fish grease were trailing through the air.
Walking through the house, the first thing he caught sight of was MJ, Mar's seven-year-old son, at the kitchen table, hunched over a half-finished worksheet with his pencil tapping as if he were irritated. Crayons and a math book were scattered across the table, paper balled up on the floor.
Juelz leaned against the fridge, watching him for a second. “Man, you in here lookin’ stressed out like you balancin’ a check book. What they got you workin’ on?”
“Homework,” MJ replied, still scribbling.
“Get off then, MJ. Whatcha tryna be when ya grow up?” Juelz asked, smirking, eyeing his worksheet.
MJ finally looked up, his face unreadable. “Might as well be a janitor.”
Juelz was confused. Folding his arms across his chest, eyeing MJ. “A Janitor? Why the hell you wanna be a Janitor?”
MJ leaned back, looking to see if the coast was clear. “Because every time I turn around, I’m cleaning up this nasty ass house.”
Juelz damn near choked laughing, slapping MJ upside his head. “You hell, boy.”
From the back, Lameeka, Mar’s wife, hollered, “MJ! Don’t get your ass whooped, boy.
I told you about that cussing shit. You ain’t grown yet.
Furthermore. The house wouldn’t be dirty if y’all cleaned up behind y’all asses.
But naw! Y’all think I’m Hazel the fucking maid ‘round this muthafucka. Ma, do this. Ma, cook that. Ma… Bae… Ma… just all day long. But you wanna complain.”
MJ shrugged, “Now you don got her started,” he said, going back to his worksheet, and shaking his head. Juelz kept moving through the house as Meeka yelled back out, “You damn right.”
“Look at this Lauryn Hill ass nigga. Always fuckin’ late,” Kane cracked the second Juelz stepped through the door, a grin stretched across his face. “Waddup, doe? You glowin’ nigga, lookin’ like a damn yellow ass highlighter. Tasha musta gave yo ass some pussy, huh?”
Juelz smirked, sliding down onto the couch between Kane and Sintonio, his chain shining under the chandelier. “Nah, nigga. Yo mama did.” He took his finger across Kane's nose. “Smell good too, don’t it, nigga.”
The room broke into laughter. Kane got in a fighting stance. “Nigga, I’m bout to fuck you up.”
Mar, lounging in his recliner with a plate on his lap, shook his head. “Y'all niggas never let up.”
Juelz nodded. “That nigga started with me. I just came thru the door.”
Mar hit his blunt one time, inhaling. “You want somethin’ to eat, nigga?” He passed the blunt.
Juelz took the blunt, sitting back on the sofa. “Hell yeah. I’ll take a plate.”
Mar nodded, leaning over in the recliner. “Aye, Meeka! Bring my nigga Jue a plate of that catfish, and a cold Corona.”
“Aight! Give me a minute,” Lameeka yelled from the other room.
Juelz cut his eyes at Mar as his lips twisted into a grin. “Nigga, now you know damn well I’m allergic to seafood, bitch.”
The room erupted. Mar sat up, chuckling. “Oh, my bad, nigga. Aye, bae! Scratch the fish. Fix this hypoallergenic nigga a chicken tender plate with a Capri Sun. You want some Motts too, nigga?” Mar asked, pointing at Juelz. “Bring this nigga a Mott fruit snack on the side too.”
From the kitchen, Meeka hollered back, “Don’t do Juelz like that, Mario.”
Sintonio was cracking up, the blunt halfway to his lips. “Y’all niggas crazy, man.”
Juelz was still laughing, adjusting his chain around his neck. “What y'all niggas been on lately? Sintonio, I already know where yo ass been.”
Sintonio put his beer on the side table. “Tell me where I been, nigga. Since you know me so well.”
“Shit, stuck in the house with all those damn kids. I bet Niyah ass on lock right now,” said Juelz.
Sintonio shifted in his seat, mean-mugging but grinning at the same time. “Muthafucka, how she on lock, when she out with Tasha ass right now, nigga.”
The room cracked up again, Kane almost choking on his drink. “Gotcha ass there, bud.”
Juelz took his plate and cracked open his Corona with his teeth. “Thank you, Meeka.” He took a sip from his Corona. “Real talk tho…I been thinkin’ bout that family shit heavy. Y’all niggas got somethin’ solid at home. Me and Tasha? Shit been… harder than I thought it’d be.”
The room got quiet for half a beat. Kane leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, eyeing Juelz. “Nigga, don’t tell me yo soldiers ain’t marchin’.” Everybody busted out laughing. Even Meeka spit her drink out.
“Man, shut the fuck up,” Juelz said, grinning through it, shaking his head. “Ain’t shit wrong with me, nigga. I’m good. Betta ask yo old hoe about me, nigga.”
Kane stood up in disbelief. “Nigga! I knew yo ass fucked Lesley.”
Juelz was laughing, sipping his Corona from the side of his mouth. “Shit, you knew I fucked that bitch.”
“What happened to the bro code?” Kane eyed him. “Ole, raggedy bastard. You ain’t shit, nigga.”
Juelz agreed. “Yeah, you right. I ain’t.”
Sintonio exhaled smoke, chuckling low. “All that fuckin’ you and Tasha be doin’ and yo ass shootin’ blanks. Make that shit make sense, nigga.”
Kane damn near dropped his beer dapping up Sintonio, hollering. “Aye! Aye! Lil’ nigga hypoallergenic and his dick broke.”
The laughter hit harder, bouncing off the walls.
Juelz forced his lazy grin back on, then popped up in the middle of the floor. With no warning, he yanked his dick out of his boxers and spun around. “Ain’t shit broke ‘bout this dick here, my baby.”
“C’mon nigga, put yo meat up,” Sintonio barked, turning his head while the room exploded with more laughter.
Kane was doubled over, tears in his eyes. “This nigga wild as hell! Pullin’ his lil’ dick out tryna prove a point.”
Mar was dying, shaking his head. “Put yo shit up, nigga. This the main reason nobody invites yo ass no more. You see my fuckin’ wife right here.”
Juelz tucked himself back in. “Fuck all that, I’m just sayin’ my…
my shit ain’t broke, nigga.” He stared everybody down in the room.
“Sintonio, yo ass posed to be the big homie, but you dyin’ laughing at my pain.
So, fuck you too nigga, with yo flat-ass forehead.
” Juelz pointed at Kane, grinning. “And you, nigga. Sittin’ ova there built like a dirty-ass Q-tip and got the nerve to clown me?
Ole’ skinny body, big head, ass lil boy.
With them dirty ass dreads that look like that’s the only thing you got out the mudd. Yea, I’m on ya ass.”
Then he turned to Mar, steady going in. “Don’t think you safe, either, nigga. Ova there shape like a box Chevy wit yo big stomach havin’ ass. Meeka gotta grease yo recliner just to get you outta that muthafucka.”
Juelz took a long swig from his cold Corona, barely swallowing before pointing back to Mar again.
“Look at ya! Got a whole booty on ya chin. Ole’ doom-da-doom-da-doom—big booty chinnn, up wit it!”
The room was in tears now, even Meeka had to leave them to their chaos. Kane wiped his eyes, wheezing. “Nigga mad at us ‘cause his dick weak.”
Juelz smirked, dropping back on the couch like he dropped a mic. “Damn right. Don’t play with me, nigga. I’ll flame everybody in here. Anybody can get it. Equal opportunity disrespect.”
Kane slid further down the sofa. “Nigga, go wash yo damn hands—”
“Shut up, nigga,” Juelz cut in quick. “Before I put ‘em on yo lip.”
“Aye, Jue. You keep on with that shit.” Kane snapped. “You ‘gon be ‘round this bitch with a broke dick and missin’ fingers. Keep fuckin’ with me.”
This was the crew. Day ones. They’d been boys since high school days, more like brothers, but from different mothers. Born in the trenches, raised in the same smoke.