He didn’t fuck around when it came to that girl, and Viggo knew it. A light tap at his window had Heavy grabbing the pistol in his lap, only to find Prischa and Henna standing between his car and hers. He hadn’t seen them pull up as he let his window down. Prischa stuck her head in and stole a kiss.
“What y’all still sitting in the car for? Come on.”
“Finishing this blunt and talking shit.” Viggo grinned, admiring her in the pink mini dress hugging her titties and ass.
With a straight blunt cut bob style, and a glam beat matching her attire with a soft pink eye shadow and matching gloss on her full lips, Prischa was gorgeous.
“Just tell the bouncer I said let you in.” Heavy admired her pretty face and that body in her spandex.
There was no denying Prischa was a baddie any day of the week, but when she was ready to turn up, she held no restraint. She loved getting attention from men.
“Fine.” She exhaled and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Henna. I need a drink.” She reached for his sister’s wrist and pulled her along to the back entrance.
The two of them strutted off, and something else caught his eye when he glanced in his rearview mirror. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him for a minute, so he squinted to be sure. The light skinned young lady strolled past his car with afew of her friends, laughing and joking around while bouncing and snapping to the bass coming from the club.
“Damn, ain’t that Maisie’s little cousin?”
“Gem,” Heavy noted.
Seeing her immediately reminded him of Giselle. The older Gem got, the more she resembled her big sister. He wouldn’t admit it to anybody, but that girl still crossed his mind regularly. He wondered how she was doing, if she was happy, if she ever thought about him like that when she saw a bottle of Don Julio or had a flat tire. She wasn’t someone you forgot, no matter how hard he tried.
Viggo pulled from his blunt and grabbed his door handle. “Let’s go. Pri is right about one thing, a nigga need a drink.” He planted his sneakers on the ground and hiked his regular fit jeans a little higher on his waist since he was sagging. A diamond Cuban link hung from his neck against the Amiri t-shirt, and his locs were pulled up into a manbun.
Heavy piled out with him, hitting the lock button on his fob as they approached the doors. With a nod to the bouncer, they were let right inside, and immediately, sweat, smoke, and liquor filled their nostrils. Bobbing his head to the beat, Viggo nodded to a few hustlers and flashed his diamond-filled smile on the ladies eyeing him.
“Mais! Give us a couple bottles of Ace, mama!” Viggo slapped his hand against the counter at the bar.
Prischa, Henna, Lou, and Gem were all lined up on barstools, and Maisie moved behind the counter with Crew on her ass. She owned the damn club, but it was natural to find her behind the bar. She loved that shit, said it made her feel closer to the patrons. She would flirt and get tips while Crew observed her from some corner, making sure nobody fucked with her in her element.
She’d hired a slew of scantily dressed bottle girls and waitresses and trained them all herself. Black beaded leotards with sheer or fishnet stockings and six-inch heels were their uniform. Maisie was smart in the hiring process and didn’t discriminate on a woman’s waist size. The BBW women made just as much if not more on a good night than the more petite ones.
“Already in you and Heavy’s section, along with the 1872,” she said, not even looking up from mixing drinks and bouncing along to Too Short. “I left a new strain in there too. Tell me what you think.”
“I love being a guinea pig.” Viggo slapped his hands together and nudged Prischa playfully. “Lil P know you out here showing out like this? Where he at?”
“With Petal for the night, and he ain’t got no say on what mama put on.” Prischa rolled her neck, and Heavy leaned against the counter beside her.
“What y’all been up to today?”
“Same shit.” Viggo slapped a hand against Heavy’s shoulder. “Let’s go grab our table.”
The two were expecting a guest tonight, so they could go over some turf issues, and Heavy was ready to get it over with. His social battery was at minimum already. The club shit was cool, but Prischa enjoyed it more than he did. He was cool at home with Pierre while she turned up. He’d started rebuilding cars in his spare time, slowly making his own collection of all his favorites. Sometimes he had to go on a hunt to find parts, but he enjoyed the challenge.
“Give us a minute before y’all come over,” Heavy instructed.
Trailing Viggo over to the VIP section past the dancefloor and staircase, he spotted Oz at the entrance, surveying the scene. With a red fitted KC hat on his head, his hooded eyes landed on Viggo and Heavy across the way. He had to bypass the ladies tomove in his direction, catching Heavy’s twin’s eye in a matter of seconds.
“Mmm, who is that?” Henna sipped her lemon drop and smacked her lips while eye fucking Oz as he strolled by.
He briefly glanced her way, making sure to specifically lock eyes with her before half smiling and rubbing his hands together like he was about to hit the jackpot.
“Girl, that’s Odin!” Lou leaned in and hissed. “They call him Oz. He’s from Edgewater.” She brought her shot glass to her lips and sipped.
“Him and his lil’ homie are fine,” Henna declared, watching him and the young brown skinned nigga with him move toward Viggo and Heavy in their section.
“Indeed,” Gem agreed, swinging around on her stool and swallowing her martini.
She had officially turned twenty-one a few weeks ago, and Maisie couldn’t keep her out of the damn club. She was glad she could keep an eye on her, though, because Gem was wild. She reminded her so much of Giselle sometimes the shit was crazy. Gem had her eye on Oz’s little friend. He had this boyish ruggedness, with locs that hung to his chest and denim jeans with a black Celine T-shirt and the White Thunder Retro 4s on his feet.
