Chapter One Tavian “Trill” Carter
When I fell off in the club tonight, I had one mission in mind.
That was to celebrate my potna Ice’s release from prison.
If it wasn’t for that, I would have never been near Platinum.
Ain’t shit wrong with the club but the fuckin area code.
I’m a southside ass nigga and I don’t fuck with the west at all.
Niggas on this side of town wake up every day with hating being the main thing on their agenda.
Nothing about them niggas appealed to me. Everything about the south and the west is different. We think different, we move different, we hustle different. Simply put, them niggas ain’t my cup of tea. I hate to breathe the same air as these niggas.
Regardless of the fact, this the spot my boy wanted to celebrate at, so I was with it.
I missed my nigga, and I wasn’t going to be on some bitch shit just because there was a chance niggas’ I didn’t fuck with would be in the building.
Ain’t no hoe in my blood. So, I come and go as I please. Regardless of the fucking location.
I was dopeboy fresh in my black Valabasas stacked pants and black t-shirt. A fresh, crisp pair of air forced ones adorned my feet. Diamond Cuban link around my neck, diamond earrings in my ear. A few sprays of my Versace Eros cologne and I felt like that nigga.
From the time we landed in the parking lot of the club, the women made me know that shit too.
I’m not an overly cocky nigga. Moreso a confident one.
Being blessed with good ass genes would do that.
My presence alone demands respect when I walk in the room.
The type of aura that make everyone turn their head.
Been that way all my life but intensified the moment I hit the streets.
All the work I’ve done in the streets created a name for me and my crew.
Southside Coalition, better known to the streets as SSC.
Consists of me, my cousin Mazi, my boys Ice, Jace, and Nico.
All born and raised across the track, what we like to call “the bottom.” I guess you can say we are products of our environment.
To me, all this shit was simply means to an end.
Getting somewhat lost in the game and caught up in the money and the power; I can’t see myself walking away from it any time soon.
The thrill of it all keeps me knee deep in it. With the life comes money and woman, but the shit also brings on problems. Small things to a giant though. For every problem, a nigga like me has a solution.
When we walked into the club Webbie’s “I Know” was blaring through the speakers as we made our way to our section.
The bass of the speakers feeling like it was thumping in our chest. The place was packed wall to wall with motherfuckers from all walks of life.
A mixture of Za, black and mild’s, cigarettes, and all kind of colognes and perfumes filled the air.
Taking away from the faint smell of fried chicken or some shit being cooked in the back.
Me personally, I ain’t the type of nigga to eat in the club but the shit was smelling delightful.
The genuine diamonds on my Cuban link dancing underneath the dimly lit venue as I walked. Giving away that I spent a couple of racks for it. If the shit wasn’t genuine, I didn’t want it. I ain’t one of those fake pumping ass niggas. I have money and I’m going to have shit to show for it.
One thing that didn’t make me mind coming to the west is the bitches.
They have some bad ass bitches. Most of them hoodrats.
Still bad, nonetheless. Walking through the club as a unit, our presence demands attention without trying.
Our individuality made us unique but the fact that we moved as one that made motherfuckers envy.
Me being the one to read a room as soon as I enter.
I couldn’t afford to leave room for motherfuckers to move in on us by moving loose.
I’m attentive and about my business. Money comes first, bullshit immediately after.
My instincts make me one hell of a leader; making it easy for my crew to trust my judgement.
They follow me because they know I’d never steer them in the wrong direction.
Anything I could do for these niggas I would.
The type of nigga I am, any nigga close to me knows I’ll always have their best interest at heart.
Everyone knew we were out of our jurisdiction but still held the same confidence we would if we were in our neck of the woods.
None of these niggas or hoes move me. Ice led the way as me and the rest of the crew were in tow.
The bottle girls walked round in skimpy ass shorts and shit like they were working for Hooters or some shit.
That shit ain’t nothing but temptation for niggas who think with their dick.
I can’t lie like I’m the type of nigga that don’t watch ass when it walks by. I’m a man and it’s in my nature.
Two of the bottle girls were walking through the crowd in front of us, to make their way to the other side of the club.
Ice ass was already feeling good and full of that liq.
I could see the way he was eyeing the cute little brown skin chick the moment she stepped in his pathway.
She wasn’t skinny but she wasn’t fat either.
Small waist with a plump ass. Cute little face but she wasn’t necessarily my type.
He grabbed her by the arm lightly.
“Aye lil mama, can you direct us to our section or what?”, he asked, smiling like hell.
Revealing a set of diamond teeth that could light up a dimly lit room easily. She looked at him and then to all of us. I guess that would determine if she could help us or not. Likely trying to see if she could tell if we were some get money niggas or not. That shit was a given.
“Yeah, I can help y’all. What’s your name?”
“They call me Ice”
“Iceeee”
“Yeah, I just put some ice on my babyyyyy. I’m trying to put some ice on you”, Ice started singing Yung Bleu’s lyrics.
I couldn’t do shit but smirk at the nigga and his antics. It’s been a long couple of years for my boy, and he was enjoying his freedom. I ain’t here to knock that. Seems to me she was eating that shit up anyway.
He held her hand as she led us to our section for the night.
Once we made it upstairs, I made myself comfortable on the far end of the velvet couch.
I did that shit purposely to ensure I had a good line of vision of everything coming and going in this motherfucker.
Tonight is about Ice. I want the nigga to enjoy himself, but I also knew to be on high alert because we were in enemy territory.
“Aye nigga, kill all that stiff shit. We here for a good time not a long time my nigga. I just came from doing some hard fuckin time and I want to enjoy the night. Pour the fuck up nigga, light your blunt, whatever you need to do to put your mind at ease my nigga”, Ice said to me.
I looked up and stared at the nigga for a good minute.
My face expressionless, no emotion. Making it difficult for a nigga to read me if he wanted to.
Until a smile finally crept across my face, causing my cheeks to rise slightly.
Ice stood in front of me with a bottle and a cup, waiting on me to give him the okay to pour my poison.
I took the cup from his hand and allowed him to do so.
I watched as the Coramino filled my cup damn near to the rim. When he was done pouring, I leaned back and made myself comfortable once again. I took my first sip before placing the cup on the small coffee table to the right of me.
Seeing that my stiffness had come to a halt, Ice began to enjoy himself again.
I looked to the left of me and Nico was on the same wavelength as me.
He had tunnel vision in this motherfucker because he knew to look out for any signs of danger.
I gave him a simple head nod to let him know that I was matching his energy.
There is always one thing that I can trust, even though Mazi is laughing and kicking the shit, his mind is at the same place.
But as I stated, today is about Ice. I can’t say I know what it feels like to do time as long as he did.
All I know is that throughout the entire ordeal, we had the nigga back tenfold.
In or out, free or behind walls, this shit doesn’t deter.
The DJ was doing his shit, spinning all of the good trap music from back in the day and even current shit.
“Tell Me Now” by Bellygang Kush started to blare through the speakers.
That song is one of the most popping songs out right now.
It wasn’t until then that I noticed the girls in the section next to us.
It was evident that this was their shit because as soon as it came on, they began yelling “ayeeee” like all women do when their favorite song comes on.
It was three of them, but they were lit as hell like they were an even bigger group.
They stood to their feet, reciting the lyrics word for word.
You would’ve thought they wrote the lyrics their damn selves the way they were feeling them.
One of the girls had a tiara on her head.
I wondered what that shit was about. A tiara in the middle of the fuckin club was absurd, unless she was celebrating some shit.
Out of the group, that’s the one my eyes were trained on the entire time.
It was something magnetic about her that had me drawn in.
She was pretty as hell and thicker than cold grits.
I just continued to sip my drink and smoke my smoke as I admired the way her hips swayed side to side.