Two bottles of tequila, a bag of ice, some margarita mix, and two packs of backwoods so he could smoke all night.
“Pri, can we chill at your spot since Lil’ P at Petal’s?”
“I guess.” She rolled her eyes and shifted the car into drive.
“So, what’s up with Oz?” Henna turned to ask Viggo.
He ripped open a bag of Doritos and stuck his hand in the bag.
“Why you asking?”
“Inquiring minds, Viggo.”
“More like an inquiring pussy.” He chuckled while chewing. “Nah, Oz is cool, but that nigga got hella babies and baby mamas. He leaving the club now because one of them bitches on her stalker shit and pulled up.”
“Oh, so we harboring a nigga and shit?” Prischa joked.
“He so damn fine, I’ll handle his baby mama for him.” Henna lowered the visor mirror to check her reflection.
She dug her MAC gloss from her purse and applied a coat then puckered her lips at her reflection. Moments later, they were pulling into Prischa’s driveway, and Oz was already parked on the curb, blowing one in his car. The three of them piled out, and the girls walked the sidewalk to the porch while Viggo went to check on his friend.
“What’s up, bro? You coming in?” he asked when Oz let the window down.
“I’ma fuck you up if you with another bitch, Odin!” his baby mama screamed through the speaker on his phone. “I already told you to quit fucking playing with me.”
“And I told you this shit is over, crazy. Go take care of my seeds while you out here chasing me all over the fucking state.” Oz shook his head and gripped his blunt tighter between his fingers.
“You not gon’ keep playing with me like some toy! I bet if I start fucking another nigga you’ll pay attention.”
“I’ll give that nigga a band a week if he can keep you away from me.” He inhaled the weed smoke and tapped the red button on the phone to end the call. “Crazy bitch,” he muttered, shuttinghis car off and sliding the fob into his pocket. “Don’t have no kids with these hoes, bro. Zero out of ten. I don’t recommend.”
“Nigga, come in and have a fucking drink. Let’s see if we can get a game of spades or something cracking around this bitch.” Viggo turned to go back toward the house, and Odin hopped out to follow.
Prischa’s three-bedroom home was laid. Pierre had set her up real nice before he died, and anything else she needed, Heavy would provide. She loved all that extra, flashy shit, so most of her shit was decked out in chrome and embellished with big ass rhinestones. In the living room was a gray tufted sofa, a soft white fur rug, and a mirrored chrome coffee table in the shape of a crescent moon in the center. Above her fireplace sat a big screen TV, and along the walls were old gray and silver canvas paintings of different sites in Europe. Most of them were sketched in gray and sprinkles of silver had been scattered over them, giving it a whimsical look that matched her end tables.
“Yo, where y’all at?” Viggo called out, stepping into the foyer.
“Kitchen!” Henna replied.
Oz closed and locked the door behind them before trailing Viggo past the L-shaped staircase and into the open kitchen. All the appliances were steel, and a square bar table sat arranged with four chairs in the corner. Henna stood, mixing drinks in the blender while Prischa bent over in front of the fridge in search of limes.
“We should have grabbed something to eat. I took out everything for street tacos, but I don’t feel like cooking.”
“Shit, allow me.” Viggo rubbed his hands together and marched over to the sink.
He knew his way around Prischa’s spot because he often came over to fix shit when Heavy couldn’t. The two of them talked shit, but it had always been love. If he was being honest, Viggo kind of had a little crush on Pri, and that was before shegot with Big Pierre and everything. He didn’t know how to come at her because she wasn’t like the other girls. She’d always been focused and goal oriented. Shit like that intimidated a nigga like him who didn’t take shit seriously.
“What’s up, Oz? You want a margarita?” Henna offered, eyeing him with lust as he climbed on one of the bar chairs and watched her.
“Less margarita, more tequila, shorty.”
“Hmm, tequila means turn up. You know that, right?” Henna flirted. “Why don’t we play some cards? Or we could go for a dip in the jacuzzi.”
“Jacuzzi?” Oz repeated.
“I’m good,” Prischa replied. “You two go for it, though.” She strolled over to the table and pulled out a chair to sit.
Oz licked his lips, his oval shaped teddy bear brown eyes sweeping over Henna hungrily. He’d talked shit about Viggo fucking with his sister, and there he was, having impure thoughts about Heavy’s twin. Her hazel eyes sparkled, and she was by far one of the prettiest women he’d ever met. The few times he’d interacted with her, she’d been cool, and seemed interested. He didn’t want to be a hypocrite or have Heavy looking at him crazy. Shit was different with Viggo and his sister. She was still a baby. Henna was a grown ass woman.
