“What’s good, Heavy?” one of the bouncers greeted, stepping aside.
He chucked his head upward. “What’s up.”
The bass fromAll Therethumped through the speakers as he made his way down the dark hallway. Heavy’s eyes adjusted to the weed smoke clouding the air of the red-hued scene. He glimpsed around, taking a mental note of the exit doors and faces that may have stood out. Though he’d been there on more than a few occasions, he could never be too safe.
The snowman had the floors covered in bills, while men and women alike tossed money in the air and in the string of dancers’ bottoms, making their asses clap. Façade attracted all types. Rich, street niggas. Street niggas who weren’t quite rich but still wanted to have a good time. Tricks who spent their weekly earnings. Women with their own bags, covering a month or two of bills for their favorite performers. Athletes paying tuition. Scammers scheming, hoping to make a come-up. Dancers with soft smiles and hard lives hidden behind barely there clothing and false lashes.
Heavy used to be amongst the crowd, littering the ground with his hard-earned funds without a second thought. He loved a hustler. A real get-it-out-the-mud type of mothafucka, and that’s what initially attracted him to Tish. She still had it in her all these years, as he spotted her.
She stood near one of the larger sections, wrapped in a silver rhinestone thong and bra set that barely covered her large breasts. Her long hair flowed down her back in loose waves while she laughed at something one of the older men at the table said. Money sat scattered across the section around half-empty bottles and ashtrays. One nigga had his hand resting low on her hip while she entertained them all effortlessly, smiling like she truly cared about whatever game he was spitting.
Tish listened, though, and looked good while doing so. Too good. Heavy understood why niggas spent money on her. She had one of those faces men got attached to fast; soft features mixed with a body that made discipline an afterthought. He’d fallen victim once, and that’s why he was here in the first place. Seeing her still dancing didn’t bother him. Tish had always handled her business. Even when they were messing around before he got locked up and since he’d been home. She never carried herself like one of those women waiting around for a nigga to save her. She got money before Heavy ever approached her, and he respected that. What he didn’t respect was whatever the fuck she and her brother had going on inside her house.
As if she knew his eyes were on her, Tish glanced to her right, spotting him. Shocked by his presence, she excused herself from the table without Heavy having to motion for her. One of the men grabbed her wrist, trying to stop her from leaving, but she laughed him off and whispered something in his ear, which made him let go with a grin.
Heavy didn’t wait around for her to reach him. He turned and headed down the hallway leading to the private rooms near the back, where the music was at the perfect volume to hold a conversation without having to talk loudly. A bouncer gave Heavy access to one of the rooms once he saw Tish strutting behind him.
It was small and intimate, with a silver pole in the middle and purple lights illuminating beneath a black leather booth-style couch. He took a seat, though he had no plans to stay long. Tish entered with a smile, unaware that this wasn’t a friendly visit by far.
“Well damn,” she teased, running her fingers through his locs. “Look who finally came to see me.”
Heavy let his eyes roam her oiled body, stopping at the diamond dangling from her belly. They ventured between her thighs where he’d spent plenty of days and nights in between.
“Yeah,” he muttered, focusing on her face. “You wanna tell me why that is?”
Tish frowned, not liking his tone or line of questioning. “Tell you why you’re here?”
Heavy nodded, and she shrugged.
“My first guess was to see me, but clearly, that’s not the reason. Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. You were short,” Heavy plainly said.
Her brows pulled together instantly. “Short on what?”
“The money Cole picked up from you earlier.” Heavy folded his arms over his chest. “Three bands are missing.”
Tish blinked hard like she knew she had heard him wrong. “Missing?”
“I’m not about to keep repeating myself.”
She laughed once out of disbelief and shook her head. “Heavy, there can’t be money missing.”
“So, you calling me a liar?” he asked, head cocked.
“No, I’m telling you I gave him everything.” Her tone slightly sharpened. “You think I’m stealing from you?”
“Somebody is, and unless you can tell me where that money or those pills for it are, you cut off.”
Tish’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now? I would never steal from you. Someone is lying.”
“And I ain’t here to make you a believer, but you got your brother staying with you, right? He was at the crib when I slid through the other night.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Yeah, but... but Maino wouldn’t?—”
“Don’t ever get comfortable thinking what a nigga won’t do. You know better than that,” Heavy scolded.
Tish did. She’d been in the game too long to put anything past anyone. Even her own brother.
