Chapter 23 #2
“Okay, well, I’ma catch up with you when we come into the party.”
“Bet.” I agreed, although kicking it with her was the furthest thing on my mind.
I’d smashed Denise’s yellow ass a while back, on my partner’s couch, purely because he was fucking her friend.
I took that for the team, and she was far from the type of girl that I’d approach on my own.
She was cute or whatever, but I preferred flat-out gorgeous.
Then the other two friends were some broads that I’d fucked with my freshman year, while they were seniors.
So, they’d gotten some adolescent dick when I didn’t know no better, and now they were fully grown and looked too dusty to even smoke with.
Making my way down the street, I was stopped every few feet, as some broad wanted to speak. I guess that’s how TP was able to catch up with me.
“Got damn, these hoes act like you a fuckin’ celebrity, nigga,”
I scratched my head. “Yeah, I know, right? The shit be getting on my nerves sometimes.”
“Shit, what nigga wouldn’t want a problem like that?”
I exhaled. “It’s cool, until it aint cool.”
“I hear you…but if I was you, I’d capitalize off the way them hoes move for you.”
“Capitalize how?” I hooded my eyes in confusion.
“Shit, put them gullible hoes to work. Stash my dope at their houses. Have them contributing to my hustle. Tell them to give me money to flip. Have them hoes using their Medicaid to get scripts from the doctors. You name it. Straight finesse.”
“I hear you.” I nodded, while stroking my chin. “I definitely hear you.”
“Yeah, okay.”
We wandered into Mike’s mama’s yard, and was greeted by familiar faces. Then my eyes landed on Shell.
“What up?” I gave her a head nod.
She was grinning from ear to ear. “Nothing. Just posted up here with my bitches.”
I lifted a brow. “Your bitches, huh?”
“Yep. It’s me. Le-Le, Tiffany, Dashia, and Raven.”
“Raven?” I frowned.
“Yep. She been in there dancing since we got here. You know how she do. Dancing like a stripper and shit.”
“A stripper?”
“Un-huh. Doing those splits she likes to do. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s doing a headstand by now.”
“Mannn,” I drawled, trying my best to remain calm.
At this point, I knew that Shell loved to exaggerate, but still.
Raven did love to shake her ass. She could dance nastier than the best stripper around the city.
And niggas loved a broad that could work their body like that.
It made us wonder if she could fuck like that…
and in Raven’s case, she could. I’m talking about a stone cold, nasty, flexible, freaky muthafucka.
I’d taught her everything she knew, and then she’d mastered the shit.
Which had me trying to keep her ass locked in the house, away from all these thirsty niggas.
But that was nearly impossible, unless I stayed in the house with her.
“She in the house, you say?” I asked Shell.
“Yeah.”
I nodded, before glancing at TP. “Come on, let’s go in, and speak to the birthday boy.”
He nodded, before following me into the one-story brick house.
“I like ‘em hot. The ones that don’t tell me to stop…”
The Hot Boyz blasted from the speakers, which had the boppers going crazy. It seemed like everybody was bending it over.
“Damn!” TP shouted over the music. “This bitch is jumping!”
Tutu had basically removed most of the furniture and had turned the sizable living room into a dance floor.
A deejay was at the back of the room, spinning the music, next to a oversized speaker.
Thick weed smoke was floating in the air, while niggas were pretty much shoulder to shoulder. Still, I spotted her immediately.
Raven was standing next to Tiffany, wearing a red halter top that exposed most of her toned, muscular stomach.
She was rocking dark blue denim booty shorts, with a thick red belt wrapped around her waist. Then on her feet were the Jordans that I’d just bought her.
She wore her long hair bone straight with a part down the middle.
Knowing her, she probably wanted to blend in with the crowd, but that simply wasn’t possible.
From that rich hue of brown, to her hair texture, she was different.
Her almond shaped eyes were hypnotizing, and those ocean deep dimples were mesmerizing, while soft, natural baby hairs graced her gorgeous face.
If that wasn’t enough, then she had the perfect body.
Big perky titties. Flat stomach. Small waistline.
Wide hips. Thick thighs. Running track bowlegs, and the fattest pussy print.
One girl having all that was honestly a fucking crime, cause I was always having homicidal thoughts when it came to her and the interactions with the opposite sex.
Just from peeping the scene, I could tell that several niggas had intentionally posted up near her, waiting on her to dance. They were probably hoping that they could post up behind her, and put their dicks on her ass, while she bounced for them.
“Say, nigga, I know that it’s customary to find the birthday boy, and pin some bread on him, but I gotta make a quick detour,” TP told me.
“A detour for what?” I asked him.
“Cause. I’m finna go over there and holler at lil’ mama in the red and blue, with the Jays on. On my mama.” He gripped his crotch again. “She’s the baddest lil’ bitch in here.”
Tucking my lips into my mouth, my eyes remained trained on Raven. “Nah, dawg. Chill out. They say her nigga being murking somethin’ behind her.”
“Shit, that nigga just might have to pull the strap, then. Cause got damn. She so fucking pretty and sexy.”
“Nine o’clock. All alone. Paging you. Wishing you’d come over. My place. Afterwhile. Let me know. We can just keep talking ‘bout the last time. You were here. What we did. No sleep ‘til morning…” Ginuwine floated through the room.
Smiling hard, Raven rolled her hips seductively, riding the beat. The clown niggas standing around her immediately started shoving each other, trying to fight their way to her.
One nigga fought through the crowd, and boldly attempted to post up behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, Raven shook her head, before pushing him back.
“Okay, I like that. She’s mean. That’s right, baby. Keep them niggas up off you,” TP rambled.
Laughing, I shook my head. “Main, you tripping. She aint fucking with you. Aint no way.”
“Shit, the fuck you say. I’m grabbing her.
Even it aint today. I’ll break the ice. Introduce myself.
Then go get my money up, cause you gotta take care of a broad like her.
Trick somethin’ major. But I wouldn’t even trip about putting that work in.
Cause I swear to God that’s the girl of my fuckin’ dreams.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. “The girl of your dreams, huh?”
“Hell, yeah. That’s the type of muthafucka you trap. Early. Baby after baby. Put a ring on her finger. Put her ass up. Shit, I’d get a job if I had to. If she was on some ‘leave the streets’ shit. Straight up. I’d clock in at a job. Whatever she wants.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“No bullshit.”
“Alright, well, let me go holler at her. Put in a good word for ya.”
“Nigga, hell nawl,” he spat instantly. “You aint slick. You not about to beat me to the punch. I can talk for my damn self.”
I chuckled. “I’m saying. Her nigga be on that bullshit. So, going over there aint the route to take. I’m telling you.”
“Okay. So, where the fuck he at?” He glanced around.
“Hold up,” I offered. “I’m finna show you.” I stepped off.
Making my way through the crowd, I approached Raven, from behind. She never saw me coming, and immediately whipped her head around, when I wrapped my arms around her waist.
“Hey, get the fuck—”
“Yeah.” I nodded, once she laid eyes on me. “Your ass wouldn’t have to pry these niggas off you, if you wasn’t trying to shake your ass.”
She sucked her teeth. “Boy, whatever. I should be able to dance without them acting so damn thirsty.”
“True. But you know how these niggas is.” I spoke directly in her ear.
“Whatever, Jahrein.” She sighed.
“What chu doing here in the first place?”
She pursed her lips. “The same thing you’re doing here. It’s Tutu’s birthday, aint it?”
“Yeah. But you was riding with me all morning. Why you never mentioned coming here?”
“Cause.”
“Cause what?”
“Cause you’s a hater. Either you would’ve tried to stop me from coming, or you would’ve tried to dictate what I was wearing.”
“I thought that you like when I pick out your clothes?”
“Only sometimes.”
“Why? Cause you came here, wanting to be seen?”
She giggled. “We both know that they’ll see me, regardless.”
“Put me down, nigga,” I heard a voice in my ear.
Turning to my left, I realized that TP was now standing beside us.
I shook my head. Raven glanced at him.
“Who is that?”
“That’s my nigga TP.” I tapped TP’s chest. “TP, this is Raven. My gal.”
TP frowned, appearing confused, before leaning over. “Is this your baby’s mama?”
“Yeah, nigga.”
He laughed heartily. “And you just stood there, letting me run my mouth.”
“Aye.” I shrugged. “I aint a dream killer.”
He was grinning hard. “Main, say, you got me proud like a muthafucka, boy. I see why.” He bucked his eyes, probably referring back to the conversation we’d just had in the car.
Raven glanced back at me. “What is he talking about?”
“Nothing.” I popped her ass.
“What’s up, Jah?” Tutu spoke, as he spotted me.
“Aint shit,” I responded, as he approached us. Clasping hands, we did a dap and a snap.
“Oh, shit. What’s popping, TP?” Tutu dapped TP up too. “I’m glad to see you home, my nigga.”
TP nodded. “It’s good to be home.”
Digging into my pocket, I gripped wad of cash, before peeling back a couple of twenties.
“Here, man.” I handed forty dollars to Tutu. “Happy birthday. Don’t say that I aint never gave you nothing, nigga.”
“’Preciate it.” Tutu smiled.
I nodded.
Tutu’s eyes lowered to Raven. “Girl, you got these niggas losing their minds in here. If one more nigga approaches me, begging me to put them down, I know something.”