Page 46 of Contract With A G

Duke chuckled, “Nigga you crazy. Do I need to hold my arms out for you?” Duke spread his arms out wide.

“Nigga, I know you packing and I know you are not getting rid of anything, so why bother.” Duke pat him on the shoulder.

He reached back, found my hand, and pulled me along as we stepped inside the lounge.

Just like I thought, it wasn’t anything super fancy, but they definitely had a nice aesthetic. Gold curtains draped along the walls, giving the place a warm, almost luxurious feel, while small lamps glowed on the tables and cast a soft light over the room. The music was loud enough to feel in my chest without being so loud that people had to yell over it.

A DJ was posted up in the corner, mixing an old-school track into something newer while people sat around their tables vibing to the music.

We walked past a few tables, then up to one in the back corner where a few guys were already sitting.

“Give me a minute, let me clear the table.”

He leaned over to my ear and then placed his hands on the table the guys sat at.

“Ayy, I saw a table out on the patio that you niggas may want to check out. That’s if it’s still there.”

One of the guys in the St. Louis Braves baseball cap squinted.

“My man, why would we move tables when we are sitting at this one?”

“Because I know the owner of this club, and he usually leaves this table open for me. Now I don’t mind when someone sits here when I’m not in the building, but as you can see, me and the lady need a seat now.”

“Well, you and the lady can find somewhere else to sit because me and the boys paid for this table at the door. We not moving because no random ass nigga wanted us to. What the fuck you Houston niggas on?” He started to chuckle, and so did his friends.

I looked around the club and spotted a small table in the corner near what looked like the kitchen, with two chairs and a few drinks on it, but it looked empty. I grabbed Duke’s arm and pulled him towards me.

“There is a table over there where we can sit, Duke. I’m not picky.”

“Well, I am, baby girl. I’ll handle these niggas.” He turned away from me, rolling his shoulders forward before clasping his hands together at his waist.

“I take it that you niggas aren’t from around here, so I figure I need to introduce myself. I’m Duke Essex, and I like to do three things in my spare time. Gamble, chill at my favorite lounge in my favorite section, and fuck niggas up who don’t understand that I’m like that. Now I’m going to give you a chance not to meet the nigga that no one likes to see.”

“Pssh, nigga, fuck out y-.”

Before he could get his words out, Duke grabbed the Hennessy bottle sitting on their table and swung it, cracking ol boy in the Braves hat upside his head. Glass flew everywhere, and his homies tried to jump up, but Duke hit them both with a right jab to their chins.

Three security guards ran over to us in the corner, and instead of reprimanding Duke, they grabbed the three dudes from the section who were bleeding out and dragged them away one by one. We stood there watching before a waitress came over and swept up the glass shattered across the table, seats, and floor.