CHAPTER NINE
Sosa
The night was going exactly how I'd envisioned it. Club Bleu was packed, bottle service was flowing, and everybody who was somebody was either in my section or trying to get in. This was my shit.
I was posted up on the couch, one arm stretched across the back, surveying my kingdom.
Trigg was across from me looking like he was plotting some fuck shit, which knowing him, he probably was.
Rah was drunk as hell with Mya on his lap, slurring his words and being all affectionate.
My other guys were scattered around, drinking, smoking, and talking shit.
Then off in the corner tryna be incognito as fuck was Yah-Yah. She was sitting by herself on the far end of the section, head down in her phone like she wanted to be anywhere but here.
She looked good too, Her Black dress hugged every curve, braids looked freshly done, and her makeup was on point. But she had this energy around her, like she didn't want to be bothered. Like she'd rather be anywhere else.
I took a pull from my blunt and stood up, making my way over to where she was sitting. She didn't even look up when I sat down next to her, just kept scrolling through her phone like I wasn't there.
"You know it's rude to be on your phone when you at somebody's function," I said, leaning back and stretching my arm across the back of the couch behind her.
She glanced at me, then went right back to her phone. "I didn't know there were rules."
"There's always rules, ma. Especially in my spot."
"Your spot, huh?" She still wasn't looking at me, but I could see the corner of her mouth twitch like she wanted to smile. "So, you own the spot and the people in it?"
"Something like that." I plucked the phone out of her hand before she could react, holding it up out of her reach when she tried to grab it back. "Now you can pay attention."
"Give me my phone, Sosa." Her eyes narrowed, and there it was, what I had been looking for all night, that feisty shit.
"Nah, not yet. You gon' sit here and have a conversation like a normal person first."
"I don't remember agreeing to that."
"You didn't. But you here in my section, drinking my bottles, so you gon' do what I say." I grinned at her, knowing how arrogant I sounded and not giving a single fuck. "That's how this work."
She stared at me for a moment, and I could see her trying to decide if she wanted to keep fighting or just give in. Finally, she sighed and sat back, crossing her arms.
"Dude like what the fuck?! Whatchu’ wanna talk about?”
"You." I set her phone down on the table, but kept it on my side, just in case she got any ideas.
. "I don’t wanna talk about me; Can I have my phone back now?"
"Not yet." I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "Why you sitting over here by yourself? Your sister over there having a good ass time, she lit, but you over here looking like you at a funeral."
"Maybe I don't feel like being bothered."
"Too fucking bad." She finally looked at me fully, and I could see the frustration in her eyes.
"You a demanding ass nigga huh?"
"Always." I didn't even try to deny it. "I see something I want, I go get it. That's how I got all this." I gestured around the club.
"That's how I get everything."
"And what, you want me?" She said it like she didn't believe it, like it was some kind of joke.
"Maybe." I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral even though we both knew the answer. "You interesting. Most bitches would be all over me right now, trying to get my attention. But you can't wait for me to leave you alone. That's different."
"Or maybe I'm just not interested."
"You interested." I said it with complete confidence because I could see it in the way her breath hitched when I leaned closer, in the way her eyes kept darting to my lips.
“You swear you that nigga, cocky ass.” she muttered, side eyeing me over the rim of her glass.
“I know I am.” She laughed softly, shaking her head.
“Nigga miss me with that shit. You ain’t the only rich nigga in here with money.”
“Nah,” I said calmly, leaning back in the booth. “But I’m definitely the ONE.” Her lips pressed together, trying to hide her reaction.
“It’s plenty niggas out here that think they’re the one, especially if they got a lil’ money,” she continued. “And its plenty niggas in here tonight thinking they poppin’ they shit by buying bottles and throwing bread at strippers, Niggas are all the same,”
“That’s all facts.” I nodded once. “But you wanna know the difference between me and my niggas and them other niggas?” I leaned forward slowly, my voice turning rough around the edges.
“We ain’t just rich…. We pop that gangsta shit ova here too.”
“Is that right? Like I said, all niggas are the same.”
“Nah, like I said, I’m the one. I’m the richest gangsta in any room I enter Baby. Do us both a favor, don’t ever compare me to no other nigga.”
Before she could respond, my phone started ringing. I pulled it out and saw Sheree’s name flashing across the screen. I sent it to voicemail without a second thought.
"Your girlfriend?" Yah-Yah asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nah."
"Then who is she?"
"Nobody important." The phone started ringing again. Sheree Again. I sent it to voicemail again.
"She calling back. Must be somebody important."
"She ain't." I turned my phone on silent and shoved it back in my pocket. "And even if she was, what that got to do with you?"
"Nothing." But I could see something shift in her expression, "I just think it's rude to ignore somebody like that."
"Like you was ignoring me when I came over here?"
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because you annoying."
I laughed, genuinely amused. "You got a smart mouth, Yah-Yah. I like that."
She opened her mouth to respond, but then her eyes locked on something across the club, and her entire body went rigid. The look on her face changed from annoyed to pissed the fuck off.
"The fuck?" she muttered, standing up so fast she almost knocked over a bottle.
"Yo, what—" I started, but she was already moving, pushing through the section and heading down toward the main floor.
I stood up quick, trying to see what she was looking at. There was a girl standing near the bar, light skin, long weave, wearing a tight white dress. She was talking to some nigga, laughing, completely unaware that she had a problem coming straight for her.
"Yah-Yah, hol’ up," I called out, but she wasn't listening.
By the time I made it down the steps from VIP, Yah-Yah was already on her. She grabbed the girl by her hair and yanked her backward, and the girl let out a scream that cut through the music.
"Bitch, I told you I was gon fuck you up on sight!" Yah-Yah screamed, and then she was swinging, landing a punch right in ole girl's face.
Shorty tried to fight back, swinging wildly, but Yah-Yah was on her ass. She had her on the ground in seconds, raining down punches while people started crowding around, pulling out their phones.
"Shit," I muttered, pushing through the crowd.
My security was already moving in, but I got there first. I grabbed Yah-Yah around the waist and pulled her off, but she was fighting me, kicking and screaming, trying to get back to the girl on the ground.
"Let me go!" she shrieked. "I'm gon' kill that bitch! Let me the fuck go!"
"Nah, you done," I said, holding her tight even though she was thrashing like crazy. She was stronger than she looked, and it took everything I had to keep her from breaking free.
"Get off me, Sosa! I swear to God,"
"You done," I repeated, firmer this time.
I started dragging her toward the exit, ignoring the way people were staring, the way phones were pointed at us.
This was about to be all over social media by morning, but right now I didn't give a fuck.
I just needed to get her out my spot before she made a bad situation worse.
"I'm gon' beat that bitch ass on sight every fucking time!" she was screaming, still trying to twist out of my grip. "Every time I see her! I don't give a fuck!"
I kicked open the back exit and dragged her out into the alley, finally letting her go once we were outside. She immediately tried to go back in, but I blocked the door, crossing my arms.
"Move, Sosa!"
"No."
"I'm not playing with you!" Her chest was heaving, her braids spilled down in her face, and there was blood on her knuckles. "That bitch,"
"I don't give a fuck what she did," I cut her off, my voice hard.
"You not going back in Ma."
"You can't tell me what to do!"
"I just did. This my shit." I stepped closer, looking down at her. "Now you gon' calm the fuck down, because I said so. And if you don’t you gon piss me the fuck off."
She glared up at me, her eyes wild, her whole body still vibrating with rage. For a second, I thought she might actually swing on me too. But then she let out a frustrated scream and turned away, pacing back and forth in the alley like a caged animal.
"That hoe think I’m playing wit’ her. She stabbed me in the fucking back,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. "Out clubbing and shit, as if shit was sweet. Like I wasn't gon' see her ass again."
"What she do?" I asked, genuinely curious now.
"She fucked my man." Yah-Yah stopped pacing and turned to look at me, and for the first time I could see the hurt in her eyes. "She was supposed to be my best friend, and she fucked him. And then she had the nerve to try to act like it wasn't like that, Bitch knew exactly what she was doing."
"Damn." I didn't know what else to say. That was some foul shit.
"So yeah." She wiped at her eyes, and I realized she was crying now, even though her voice was still hard. "I told her if I ever saw her again, it was on sight. And I meant that shit."
"You good?" I asked, my voice softer than usual.
"No." She laughed, but it came out bitter. "I'm not good. I haven't been good in weeks. But everybody keep expecting me to be okay and to just get over it. And I can't. I can't just let shit go like that."
"Then don't."
She looked up at me, surprised. "What?"