Chapter Twenty-One #3
“What she say?”
“She said yo balls were bigger than your dick.”
“What?!” Duce barked.
“Yep, and they been sharing that shit all on Facebook,” Al laughed. “I even shared the shit because she funny as fuck.”
“Is that why you calling me little daddy? My dick not little, I can show you,” Duce offered, tugging at his pants.
“Man, leave this girl alone,” Logic chortled. “Bring us a bottle of Henny, shorty.”
“You got it, handsome. How many dancers do you want?”
“Four and I want her.” He pointed to the girl bent over in front of Dexter.
“Oh, you messy,” the waitress smiled. “I’ll be right back and the dancers will be right up.”
“Cool,” Logic nodded, taking a seat. He removed a couple of pre-rolls from his pocket and passed them to his boys.
“Aye,” Al called after the waitress. “Don’t send no bougie bitches with stiff asses over here. I need that shit to shake like jelly.”
“I’m about to run to the bathroom,” Duce said, pressing the phone to his ear.
“Nigga why you calling that girl?” Al teased.
“Mind your business. I’m not calling her,” he lied, dipping into the crowd. “Pearl, I’m going to beat your ass! Why the fuck you telling people my dick little?”
“You knew that nigga was here?” Al asked, nodding toward Dexter, who was arguing with the manager as the dancer he had been tipping all night walked out of his section.
“Yea,” Logic answered.
“And you about to fuck with this nigga, huh?”
“Nah, I’m just trying to have a good time, and if my presence bothers that nigga then it’s on him.”
“Yea, aight,” Al responded, thanking God he didn’t leave the house without his tool.
The feud between Logic and Dexter was growing by the day.
Although Logic hardly replied, Dexter sat on live and ranted about Logic and Tyler all day.
He made it his mission to start the day off with a fuck you post and ended the night telling the world how his new bitch was better than his ex-bitch.
He made memes out of Tyler’s pictures and shared every bad post about her.
Logic was cool when the shots were directed toward him, but when Dexter started telling his fans that he’d pay them to run up on Tyler, he drew the line.
Paying Dexter a visit was a must, and Logic planned to emasculate him without putting a single finger on him.
“I heard you called for the baddest bitch,” the dancer who was dancing for Dexter cooed, placing her hand on her hip.
“Eh, you ain’t the baddest, but you’ll do.” Al pulled out a stack. “Bounce that ass just like your friend.” He tossed a few ones in the air.
Not even thirty minutes later, Logic’s section was overfilled with dancers, and the floor was covered with money.
The first bottle of Henny was gone and three more had been ordered.
Dancers were pouring liquor into one another’s mouths, licking it off each other’s breasts, and sipping it from shot glasses that were placed between each other’s ass cheeks.
The music was louder, the dancers were wilder, and a few had gotten completely naked.
Duce was standing on the couch making money rain as if it was falling from the sky.
Al was leaning against the wall with a blunt hanging from his mouth, and Logic was focused.
He could feel the heat coming from Dexter’s section, but the frog had yet to leap.
???
Vexed couldn’t even begin to explain how Dexter felt.
He didn’t have any more money to tip, so the dancers weren’t fucking with him.
He couldn’t buy another bottle, so the manager asked him and his crew to pack it up.
They didn’t mind if he stayed, but Logic wanted the section for the overflow of people in his section, and since he was paying, the club owner was more than happy to oblige.
“We might as well dip,” Marty suggested. “It’s late and I’m not about to keep tipping these bogus hoes.”
“You hear me,” Tilly agreed. “I got something warm at the crib waiting for me.”
“You still fucking a bitch that don’t wanna be seen with your ass,” Dexter taunted. “I could never let a bitch hide me.”
“It ain’t even like that,” Tilly explained. “We just doing our own thing. Plus, these hoes not even fucking with us since that nigga walked in here.” He nodded toward Logic’s section. “All the Shamar-looking bitches keep coming over here.”
“Fuck outta here. This nigga not about to run me from shit!” Dexter slurred. “This my fucking city. These young niggas better start respecting a real nigga when they see one,” he roared. “Matter fact-” Dexter pushed up from the couch.
“We going over there?” Tilly quizzed.
“Yea, because he think he doing some shit and he ain’t doing nothing. I been buying out bars and tricking on these hoes.”
“Bro, it’s not that serious,” Marty reasoned.
“It is, and if you want to be a lil bitch about it, you can leave,” Dexter spewed.
“Aye chill. Ain’t no bitch in my blood.”
“Then bring yo ass on.” Tilly tapped his shoulder as he followed Dexter out of the section.
???
Al lowkey tapped Logic to let him know that Dexter was headed their way, but there was no need.
While everyone else was having a good time, Logic was patiently waiting.
He knew Dexter was coming the moment he told the manager he wanted his empty ass section.
Like a mad pitbull, Logic watched Dexter and Tilly march toward him as if someone stole their lunch money.
“You a real bitch ass nigga,” Dexter shouted, stepping into the section.
“Damn, why you always so loud?” Logic taunted. “Do you have an inside voice?”
“You really think this shit is a game. Like niggas not losing their life for stepping outside of their lane.”
“What can I say…I’m a risk taker.” Logic shrugged his shoulders. “What the fuck you gone do about it?”
“And the fuck I tell you about threats?” Al questioned, stepping up behind Logic.
“Fuck you and this fake ass nigga. Trying to take my bitch, my dancers, damn, you want my life?” Dexter laughed, turning to Tilly. “This nigga wanna be me.”
“I see,” Tilly agreed.
“Nah.” Logic shook his head. “I don’t want to be you nigga. You don’t have the girl...I do.”
“Fuck you trying to say?” Dexter's jaw clenched.
“I’m saying I get it. Shit, if I lost her, I’d be mad too. But you ain’t even gotta worry about her no more. I got it from here.”
“Is there a problem over here?” the owner asked, not in the mood for a brawl to break out in his establishment.
“Yea, I been giving yall niggas my money for years and I know that shit comes with some type of loyalty,” Dexter started. “I want this nigga gone.” He glared at Logic.
“Uh, well, we appreciate you for patronizing our business, but I’m not going to be able to do that.”
“And why the fuck not?”
“Because business is business,” the owner stated. “And if you’re done spending for the night, I’m going to need you to leave.”
“This real fucked up,” Tilly fussed, wishing they had listened to Marty, who was already backing out of the section.
The embarrassment was real. It was as if the whole club was staring at them.
The music was low, the dancers weren’t dancing, and people were recording them.
Dexter didn’t notice what was going on, but Tilly peeped it, and for once he wished he would’ve stood up for himself.
Now the spotlight was on them, and he was sure Logic was about to make them look stupider than they already looked.
“You gone stick around for the show?” Logic asked.
“Fuck you nigga.” Dexter thumbed his nose. “Make sure you keep your head on a swivel,” he warned, pointing two fingers at Logic.
“Here you go, sexy.” A dancer handed Logic a microphone.
Smirking, Logic lifted the microphone to his lips and let out a low chuckle that sent a chill down Dexter’s spine. When the beat dropped, Logic started freestyling.
“I don’t even battle rap, but this nigga needed some attention.
Every day he sitting online, behind the screen, moanin’ and bitchin’.
The fuck is a Dexter? Posted behind the keyboard typing shit like a heckler, gangrene ass chains, losing touch with reality.
Keep making threats, this nigga lowkey probably feeling me.
Probably be at the crib rapping my shit, ole jealous ass nigga, stay on the tip of my dick.
The fuck is a Dexter anyway? Ole lame ass nigga, with a lame ass name, tired ass perm and washed-up ass fame. ”
“Whew,” someone in the crowd whistled.
“Fucking bully, Dexter the heckler. Put ya hands up with a real nigga. Slick talking muthafucka always quick to reach for the trigga. Fucking lame, Dexter the heckler. Loudest nigga in the room because ya confidence is zero, probably didn’t have a daddy. Aye, this nigga need a hero.”
“Ahhh,” Al laughed out loud.
“Fucking lame. Dexter the heckler. Fucking bully. Dexter the heckler,” Duce repeated, hopping around on the couch in the section.
“Fucking lame,” the crowd repeated.
“Dexter the Heckler.” The dancers giggled.
“Man, fuck this shit,” Dexter barked, trying to push his way further into the section but was stopped by the security guards.
“You gotta go man.”
“Get the fuck off me,” Tilly bellowed as he was pushed through the crowd right behind Dexter, who was being dragged out of the club like a toddler.
“Ladies, yall gotta stop letting these sassy ass niggas stress yall out,” Logic said into the mic. “Now, back to business. DJ, give these ladies something they can bounce to.”
And just like that, the club went up. More bottles were popped. Asses and titties were bouncing and dollars were thrown. By morning Dexter would be the laughingstock of Detroit, and it was all his fault.
“You know that nigga not about to let this shit go right,” Al said, taking a seat next to Logic.
“Oh, I’m banking on it.” Logic grinned, pressing send on his goodnight text to Tyler.