Just Listen (Hold It Down)

~~~Chapter 1~~~

Malice

“Stickin’ to the code, all these hoes for the streets. I put it in her nose, it’s gon’ make her pussy leak. Pussy niggas told, ain’t gon’ wake up out they sleep. You can’t hear that switch, but you can hear them niggas scream…”

Bobbing my head to Future, I couldn’t deny that the deejay was on point, if nothing else.

Posted up in a section with my niggas, I’d pulled up to the club, after my boy PJ kept persisting. Everybody knew that the club wasn’t typically my thing, and at the first sight of bullshit on the horizon, I was out.

After taking so many chances in these streets, and managing to duck the laws for years, I refused to let some stunting and capping for strangers be my demise. So, the club wasn’t big in my life, and as I glanced around, I was reminded why.

I loved the niggas I’d grown up with. We’d all gotten it out the mud, and were doing our thing around the H.

I’m talking luxury cars, jewelry, designer clothes, to impress the hoes.

But that shit was superficial, and I was getting to the point of questioning what was I now doing it for.

Meanwhile, my niggas were recklessly blowing a bag in this club, while some of ‘em would be complaining tomorrow, if their BMs asked for a few dollars. Backwards shit.

“Say, nigga, you aint drinking?” PJ leaned over and questioned, while sitting next to me.

He was my nigga, even if he got no bigger. We’d been tight since elementary, and at twenty-five, we knew each other like the back of our hands.

“Nah, I’m straight.” I shook my head.

I definitely wasn’t a prude, and could get fucked up with the best of ‘em, but I was cool on getting too lit in a public setting. Slippers get got, and that wasn’t gonna ever be me.

“I hear you, nigga. Me, myself I’m finna get fucked up. Especially cause I rode with Dro,” he referenced our other partner, who was reclined back on the other end of the couch, bobbing his head to the music. “And I might grab one of them bad muthafuckas in the section next to us.”

Naturally, my eyes traveled to the next section.

Before that, I was aware that there were broads next to us, but I didn’t really see them.

And I had to admit that they were a group of baddies.

All six of ‘em. It was just that I hadn’t really come through to fuck with some hoes, so I hadn’t been paying attention, for real.

“Yeah, they’re straight. And got more bottles than you niggas,” I smirked, as I watched the broads in the next section toss up premium liquor. They were filming themselves, as they was either rapping along to the music, or twerking.

“Yeah, they definitely over there flexing.”

“Hell, yeah,” I mumbled, as one broad in particular was full out throwing that ass.

Baby was dressed provocatively, clad in a cropped denim jacket, cropped Gucci tee, denim distressed booty shorts, and Gucci printed thigh-high boots.

Her long hair was swinging across her back, as she was holding onto a railing that separated V.I.P.

from the rest of the club. Her moves was raunchy, yet seductive, at the same damn time.

Curiously, I couldn’t stop watching. The way baby was working those hips had me wondering if she stripped by profession. I was mostly getting a side view or her backside, and couldn’t miss that build for nothing.

I remember this old skool cat had once told me that some women were so pressure that they could redefine whatever it was you thought was your type, and I think that I was now understanding what he really meant.

Baby was a thickem. I’m talking perhaps what may be considered plus sized, technically.

Meanwhile, I had always thought that slim-thick was my jam.

A petite something with curves on her. And there was absolutely nothing petite about this broad.

Ole girl had wide, childbearing hips. Smooth, massive thighs. Meaty, sturdy legs. No cellulite in sight. A perfectly round, robust ass. Attached to the tiniest waist. Maybe she’d had some work done. I don’t know. Because those type of proportions weren’t common for girls her size.

Her body oozed of sex appeal, and she had the nerve to have quite a noticeable bowlegged stance.

“Nah,” I grumbled, as I shook my head. “Anybody with a body like that is usually a butter head—” Everything looks good but her face. That’s what I was telling myself. And then she turned in my direction. “Damn.” Was all I could say.

Big Baby was everything I didn’t expect. I’d figured that either she’d be the typical outside bitch with the caked-on makeup and lace wig or a muthafucka with a below average face that niggas looked past, due to the shape. Surprisingly, she was none of the above.

Her honey brown skin seemed to have a glow, even in the dim club. She had the prettiest slanted eyes. A cute button nose. High cheekbones. Full, pouty lips. Ocean deep dimples. With long, thick, shiny, curly hair that I couldn’t determine if it was all hers or not.

Big Baby was fucking gorgeous. And I’m not talking on a simple level. I’m talking about the type of gorgeous that the rappers, and ball playing niggas chased. The type of gorgeous that could gaze in your eyes, while digging in your pockets, and you’d gladly let her take everything she finds.

There was no way that a girl with that type of body, along with that mug, wasn’t some nigga’s biggest problem.

Then she had the nerve to cockily stand there, with her hands on her hips, and gaze directly at me.

“You’ll be sayin’ no, no, no, no, no. When it’s really yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…”

That old, slower version of Destiny’s Child song was floating from the speakers.

Big Baby sang along, while our eyes locked.

“Boy, I know you want me, I can see it in your eyes. But you keep on frontin’. Won’t you say what’s on your mind?”

“Say,” I said to myself. “Is that muthafucka singing to me?” I wondered, as she was theatrically performing.

“If you wanna be with me. You gotta keep it real. Tell me what’s goin’ on. Tell me how you feel…” She belted, like it was her song, while she pointed directly at me.

Sexily, she swayed her hips, while boldly serenading me.

“You won’t regret, I must confess, I’m really feelin’ you.

Anything you’ve ever wanted before. Is right here for you, for you.

Don’t worry what they say. Just bring your love my way.

‘Cause your friends can’t do what I can for you.

” She brazenly pointed at PJ. “I don’t wanna hear you say…

” She sassily swerved her neck like she was Beyoncé herself.

“Nigga, ole girl is really singing to you,” PJ chuckled, as he shook my shoulder.

“I know,” I absently responded, while still in a trance.

“Go get her—” He encouraged, before the music transitioned, and she switched right out of the section, before disappearing into the crowd.

“Where the fuck?” I mumbled, while glancing around.

“Say, when she comes back, you better get her, nigga. Or I will. Ion give a fuck about her just playing with you. Did you see the ass on her? Then she’s prettier than a muthafucka.

I wonder how much I can toss her way for the night.

I’d definitely spend about ten on her,” PJ rambled, while I was quietly waiting for Big Baby to resurface.

After thirty damn minutes, I had to accept that she was probably really toying with a nigga, and had burnt off.

“Damn, that’s cold. That muthafucka really left,” I said to myself, before standing. “And on that note…I’m finna burn,” I announced, before clasping hands with all my niggas.

“Alright, my nigga, be safe,” PJ urged.

“Oh, for sho’,” I agreed, before stepping off.

It was approaching one in the morning, so the crowd in the club was still thick. So, I was maneuvering through throngs of people, before finding the exit.

Stepping outside, a gust of wind swept by me, as it was late January, the coldest month in Houston. That meant that it was chilly, temperatures in the low 40s.

Glancing around, I peeped that the lot was already prowling with folks. There was so many broads flouncing around in tiny shorts and knee-high boots. And tiny ass jackets that did nothing to shield them from the cold.

Admittedly, there was a lot to look at. Hell, this was Houston, after all.

Home of some of the baddest bitches. So, finding baddies wasn’t very hard, however, nobody had piqued my interest like Big Baby had.

So, I approached my black-on-black Range Rover that was parked out front in the VIP valet, which allowed me to keep my keys versus leaving them with a attendant.

Wanting to fire up, I hopped into my whip. Immediately, I ignited the engine and turned the heater on. Knowing that I had a good while before people would start filing out of the club, I grabbed my dope, then lit my blunt up, before taking a nice, long puff.

Ever alert, my eyes swept the lot, taking in my surroundings. Seeing nothing incredibly interesting, I was about to put the truck in drive, when my eyes landed on her. Big Baby.

She was standing near a Benz, a few spaces away from my truck, laughing with a couple of girls.

“Okay. I got that ass now,” I mumbled, while placing my blunt in the ashtray.

Without a second thought, I hopped out of my ride, leaving it running. I then hastily waltzed over to Big Baby and the crew.

“Excuse me, ladies,” I cleared my throat, as all three of the girls focused on me, including Big Baby. “I aint trying to interrupt y’all powwow, but I need to holler at my wife, right quick.”

Naturally, they all frowned in confusion.

“What your wife gotta do with us?” The high yellow, thick one spoke up first.

My eyes were now trained on Big Baby, as she was smirking back at me. “I’m saying…she standing right here, playing crazy.”

“Huh?” The other chick chimed in. She was a slim thick, chocolate drop.

Ignoring the sideline theatrics, I furrowed a brow. “How you gone give a nigga his own personal concert and then just run off like that?”

“It was time to go,” she mischievously smiled.