“I know I am.” She laughed softly, shaking her head.
“Nigga miss me with that shit. You ain’t the only rich nigga in here with money.”
“Nah,” I said calmly, leaning back in the booth. “But I’m definitely the ONE.” Her lips pressed together, trying to hide her reaction.
“It’s plenty niggas out here that think they’re theone, especially if they got a lil’ money,” she continued. “And its plenty niggas in here tonight thinking they poppin’ they shit by buying bottles and throwing bread at strippers, Niggas are all the same,”
“That’s all facts.” I nodded once. “But you wanna know the difference between me and my niggas and them other niggas?” I leaned forward slowly, my voice turning rough around the edges.
“We ain’t just rich…. We pop that gangsta shit ova here too.”
“Is that right? Like I said, all niggas are the same.”
“Nah, like I said, I’m the one. I’m the richest gangsta in any room I enter Baby. Do us both a favor, don’t ever compare me to no other nigga.”
Before she could respond, my phone started ringing. I pulled it out and saw Sheree’s name flashing across the screen. I sent it to voicemail without a second thought.
"Your girlfriend?" Yah-Yah asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nah."
"Then who is she?"
"Nobody important." The phone started ringing again. Sheree Again. I sent it to voicemail again.
"She calling back. Must be somebody important."
"She ain't." I turned my phone on silent and shoved it back in my pocket. "And even if she was, what that got to do with you?"
"Nothing." But I could see something shift in her expression, "I just think it's rude to ignore somebody like that."
"Like you was ignoring me when I came over here?"
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because you annoying."
I laughed, genuinely amused. "You got a smart mouth, Yah-Yah. I like that."
She opened her mouth to respond, but then her eyes locked on something across the club, and her entire body went rigid. The look on her face changed from annoyed to pissed the fuck off.
"The fuck?" she muttered, standing up so fast she almost knocked over a bottle.
"Yo, what—" I started, but she was already moving, pushing through the section and heading down toward the main floor.
I stood up quick, trying to see what she was looking at. There was a girl standing near the bar, light skin, long weave, wearing a tight white dress. She was talking to some nigga, laughing, completely unaware that she had a problem coming straight for her.
"Yah-Yah, hol’ up," I called out, but she wasn't listening.
By the time I made it down the steps from VIP, Yah-Yah was already on her. She grabbed the girl by her hair and yanked her backward, and the girl let out a scream that cut through the music.
"Bitch, I told you I was gon fuck you up on sight!" Yah-Yah screamed, and then she was swinging, landing a punch right in ole girl's face.
Shorty tried to fight back, swinging wildly, but Yah-Yah was on her ass. She had her on the ground in seconds, raining down punches while people started crowding around, pulling out their phones.
"Shit," I muttered, pushing through the crowd.
