“Okay. Yeah, when you called me, I was out on the floor, and you know we can’t be on our phones,” I let her know.
“I figured. How has it been having Riot over there? Don’t get me wrong, I know my daughter, so I know she’s always been one of little words, short tempered, and mainly to herself, but something about her is off. Have you noticed that too, or am I looking too deep into it?” she asked me, and I sighed at her question.
“Nah. It’s not just you. She’s like that at the house too. She only perks up when Amir is home. You know she loves that boy. You know you gotta watch the way you come at Riot because like you said, her temper is so short, but I’ve been wanting to ask her if anything happened to her in jail. Something about her changed. She won’t eat shit that I cook. It’s always some kindof excuse on why she won’t eat my food. That girl don’t sleep, so she probably just lied to you when she told you that she was sleeping. Its nights that I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, so that I could go out front and get something to drink, and she’ll be up in the living room, with the TV on, but not really watching it,” I started, but took a pause for a bit.
“She so grouchy lately too. The smallest things will aggravate her. Demi called me yesterday, telling me that Riot came over, and how she was mean as hell the whole time she was there. She probably just needs time to adjust. She was locked up for a year, and the world kept going. I have faith that she’s going to get it together,” I was trying to be positive.
“I hope so. What’s this with her not eating? Even at her grandma and papa’s house the other day, she wouldn’t eat the food they cooked. She came home tinier than she was when she went in. I’m overthinking the hell out of this shit. You think somebody might have poisoned her or something in jail?” she asked.
“She probably just paranoid. Ain’t no telling what went on in that jail. Auntie, I know how you can get with Riot. Don’t force that shit out of her. Let her breathe. When she ready to talk about it, she will,” I finished.
I could tell she didn’t want to accept what I was saying, but she eventually did. We spoke for a little longer, and I told her that I would call her back in the morning.
From there, I tucked my phone in the back pocket of the little shorts that I was wearing, and I walked over to my vanity. My hair was fine, but I wanted to add another coat of lip gloss. I even sprayed some more perfume on me. I fluffed my hair, making sure that I looked damn good, and once everything checked out, I stood up, so that I could leave.
I knew that Mark would come looking for my ass if I didn’t get back out on the floor. Jade wished me luck, I thanked her, and I left the room.
As I was walking out onto the scene, the DJ was blasting Boston Richey, help me. Miami’s clubs was truly something out of a movie. The baddest bitches were on stage dancing, you could see all the money that was being thrown in the air, and the club that I worked at was always so packed, that sometimes, it was hard to maneuver around. Not only that, but Miami niggas felt like because they owned a couple of Cuban link chains, rented luxury cars, and flashed a little money, that they could just grab on you, and I hated that shit. Even right now, as I was walking to get to MBM’s section, I had to check three niggas for grabbing on me.
I made it over to the section where the members of MBM were, and they were thick in here. Kori, who was the bottle girl for the section, was already there and you could see it in her eyes that she was a little scared. Kori has only been here for about five months now, but Mark liked her, so he would give her the big sections too. Her cheeks were literally turning red, as she stood, taking the order from Mook. She was in a section with killers, and drug dealers. These young niggas were thugs, and it had her shook.
I scanned the section, trying to find Dolo, and he was standing closer to the railing, with a blunt in his hand, smoking, while he looked around the club.
“There your fine ass go! We been looking for you!” Mook greeted me, once I walked over.
I smiled at his words, and I walked into his embrace, giving him a quick hug. Mook had been on my body for years now. This nigga has been trying to fuck me for as long as I can remember, but I wouldn’t budge.
If you were from Miami, then you knew that MBM niggas had a history of being the biggest dogs. It wouldn’t be smart to date any of them. Don’t get me wrong, you can fuck them, get a nut or two out of them, but don’t do anything further than that because you will fuck around, and get your feelings hurt. With Mook, I could have been fucked, and got a little money out of him, but it wasn’t worth the headache. It wasn’t worth the circus show that would come with it. I didn’t have time to be beefing with his other hoes, all because I decided to finally let him fuck.
“What’s up? What you doing to my girl? Why you got her looking red in the face?” I asked him right after we pulled away from the hug.
The fact that he laughed, while looking me up and down, proved to me that he was fucking with her.
“I ain’t do nothing. I’m chillin. I told her that she gotten loosen up some. She ain’t gotta be scared to be in a section with us. We not going to bite her. Ari, tell her that me, and my niggas tip good. We’ll have her bills paid for the next couple of months,” Mook said to me, and I delivered the message to Kori, so she would know that she was in good hands while in this section. Plus, I was working it with her, so I wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her.
“Ya’ll celebrating something tonight, or ya’ll just pulled up to watch the fight? What we doing? We starting out with champagne, or ya’ll going right in for the big stuff?” I asked, pulling out my small notebook, ready to start writing down whatever Mook and the rest of the MBM boys were going to dish out to me.
They never ordered small, so I needed this notebook to jot it all down.
“Nah. We not celebrating nothing. We had a good work week, so we decided to pull up here, and vibe. Start us out with Ace andDon. We can bring the champagne and shit out after that,” he told me, and I wrote that down.
Kori and I ended up splitting up in the section, so we could go around and take any food orders. Some of the men wanted to eat, so I jotted down the entrees that they put in. The last person that I had to take an order for was Dolo. He was still standing up front by the railing in the section, smoking on his blunt, bobbing his head to the music, and watching what was going on in front of him. With the section they were in, it gave the best view of the club. You could see everything that was coming and going.
“What’s up Dolo? You putting an order in for food too?” I asked, standing just a few feet away from him.
He heard me over the loud music, so he turned his head, looking down at me. Riot had every right to question me about this nigga in the car the other night because God damn, he was fine! Fine in such a hood, ruggish, yet classy kind of way. The glasses he wore gave off the classy look. He had swag too. Like, he wasn’t one of those fashion killer niggas, that likes to compete with a woman, wearing bedazzled jackets and shit, and over doing the designer pieces, either. He dressed very manly, and I could see why all the women would be attracted to that.
He was dressed in a Chrome hearts charcoal colored hoodie, and up under the hoodie, you could see the graphic tee that he had on as well. His bottoms were a pair of black cargo shorts, and they hung off his waist a little bit. Because he was in shorts, you could see the tattoos that took up space on both his legs. A peach-colored hat sat on top of his head, hiding his short cut. Simple gray and white Asics sneakers were on his feet. A couple of silver Cuban link chains were dancing around his neck, and the bracelet was dancing just as much.
“Hey. How you doing? Yeah, I’ll eat. Let me get the jerk pasta,” he told me, and I added that on to the already lengthy list that I had on the notepad.
I let him know that I had his order, and that I was going to take it to the back, and put it in, but before I could walk away, he stopped me.
“You good?” he asked me, looking me in my eyes. I could tell that it was something more the nigga wanted to ask me, but he was holding back.
“I’m good,” I let him know, and he nervously picked his hand up, took the cap off, and he scratched his head.
That movement exposed the Glock that he had resting on his hip. MBM niggas did whatever they wanted to, and because they spent so much money here, Mark would allow security to have them come inside the club with their guns.
