“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, losingtouch 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.”
