A Hood Legend (5 page)

The digital clock on the dashboard read 7:15 p.m. Not wanting to get lost, she made sure to input Lisa's address in the navigational system—just to be on the safe side. Maybe her cousin was right; she needed to spread her wings and have some fun due to the simple fact that she was young and alive. Maybe she'd enjoy herself at the club that Lisa talked her into going with her later on that night. But still in the back of her mind, she wondered what Menage Unique Legend was doing at that very moment.

* * *

Menage was coming out of the bathroom when the computerized voice announced a visitor at the front gate. He viewed the eighty-inch screen and saw Dwight sitting in his dove gray BMW 745Li with the twenty-inch chrome Dalvin spinners. Since Vigor had a shorter temper when it came to visitors, he had to stay outside, but it didn't stop him from barking at the glass back door. “Easy, boy,” Menage said to Vigor, and he reached down to rub Vapor's head as Dwight came into the house.

“What's going on?” Dwight said looking down at the table full of cash.

“Everythang but the right thang,” Menage said, then quickly told Dwight about the threat he received on his phone.

“Say word? I thought that line was private,” Dwight said.

“It was, but fuck it, that's a bitch game. Well, I now know that dem niggas was gunnin' for me, and I'm not 'bout to sit and hide . . . let's hit the streets, man,” Menage said. “You gonna call your girl and ask her if you can you go out?” he added smiling.

“Funny!” Dwight said wondering how Menage could put the incident at Bayside on the back burner.

* * *

They pulled up to a corner store on Sixty-second Avenue. Menage came out with two ice-cold bottles of Old English 800 and a bag of Skittles. He was back in his element, gripping the steering wheel with the system knocking. Dwight finished his beer before Menage and the tight feeling he felt in his stomach made his mouth water for a second. Leaning back in the Burberry printed seat he glanced at Menage, who was bobbing his neck to the booming system as he gripped the steering wheel with one hand and yelled at some girl on his Gucci Logo Nokia 3650 camera phone. Dwight quickly glanced at the screen on Menage's phone. There was a picture of a naked girl lying in bed. There was even an X-rated DVD playing on a TV screen that was mounted from the black chrome dashboard. Dwight was feeling good when he reached for his blunt. He only got high when he was with Menage. Tina wasn't going for it, so he made the best of it and didn't bug Menage about all of his women.

Menage didn't lead anybody on or sell any false dreams. Chicks saw the whip with its spinning rims and banging system—not to mention the platinum he wore—and they were hooked. He was also fine as hell, so they said. He couldn't recall the last time he waited over a week before sexing a new woman that he'd met. Hell, sometimes they made the first move toward the bed. “There's an art to this game,” Menage once said.

Dwight watched him meet seven different girls as they cruised around Miami—same line, different chick. He did it all the time. And they flagged him down—flashing high beams, blowing horns . . . so how was he at fault? Dwight could only smile and shake his head.

“Where you going?” Dwight yelled leaning toward him as he turned down a side street.

“I'ma see some girl I met last week. Wait till you see her—badoonka-donk-type ass . . . oh, this my shit here!” he yelled turning up the system a notch louder as the latest hip-hop cut shook the Escalade. They pulled up to a housing project off of Twenty-seventh Avenue past a football stadium. Dwight looked at his red gold Bulgari watch and saw that it was after nine. Menage backed into a parking space and before he took the key out of the ignition, a light-skinned female came outside in a tight pair of coochie cutters and a green bikini top. Her ass was huge! She walked up to the ESV, waved at Dwight and kissed Menage on the lips.

“You still going out tonight?” Dwight said.

“Yeah,” Menage replied, then whispered something in the girl's ear. “Yo, man, it's too early to go to the club, but are you coming in?” he added looking at Dwight while reaching under the seat for his .380.

“Nah, bruh, I'ma chill out here,” Dwight said placing a .357 on his lap. On nights like this, Menage didn't think about the chop shop or the money he laundered through his salons. It was all about how many girls he could get with. Dwight watched him follow the big-butt girl into the building and he could actually see them enter her bedroom on the third floor from where he sat. By looking at the digital clock on the dash, he noticed that it only took four minutes for the bedroom lights to go off. He eased back in the plush seat to get comfortable, switched on the plasma screen and watched
Biker Boyz.

* * *

Armed with New York street smarts, DJ was slicker than baby oil between Lil' Kim's breasts. He brought his baby blue Lexus GS430 to a slow halt at a light on Biscayne Boulevard. DJ was twenty-seven, with the pretty-boy looks of Ginuwine. Menage put him back on his feet when word got around that he could steal a car with ease without breaking the steering column. Menage had saved him from a two-year bid and paid his bond of seventy-five thousand. DJ had walked out of the county six months earlier to find Menage sitting across the street in his roofless Acura Legend. He introduced himself, and DJ quickly found out who had paid his bond. Menage took DJ under his wing and showed him how to make real money. Two weeks later, he had DJ use his skills to snatch a brand new Ferrari off the docks as soon as it was unloaded off the cargo ship. That same night Menage drove him to a modest apartment in Hollywood with the Lexus GS430 parked in the driveway. DJ thought it was another job, but he was speechless when Menage gave him the keys to the apartment and Lexus along with twenty thousand in cash spread out on the bed inside the crib. Now DJ was his number-one car thief, and he gained even more status when he brought in the DB-7, but he hoped Menage wouldn't flip once he told him when and how he got it. Money was money, right?

“Yo, be quiet while I'm on the phone, a'ight!” he said to the Jessica Simpson look-alike sitting next to him. Only the greenish glow from the Navi system filled the GS430. He quickly dialed a number by heart as he waited for the light to change. There was an answer after the second ring. “What up, sexy?” he said turning down the music with a knob on the steering wheel.

“Un-uh. I called you around six.”

“I was tied up.” His passenger did as she was told and kept her mouth shut, but since he didn't say anything about not touching him, she leaned over and zeroed her attention between his legs. DJ didn't turn her away. He gave into his need to feel her hands on him. “Can we get up later on tonight? You know I'm tryin' ta beat that.” He held in his moan as his zipper slid down.

“Oh, really!” the woman on the other end laughed.

“Y-yeah . . . can we meet at our spot or what?” he said resting the phone on his shoulder and gripping his passenger's blonde hair. His eyes closed and he became silent as she took him deep into her mouth.

“DJ!”

“Y-yeah.”

“I called your name five times, boy! Anyway, I'll be there in an hour.” She hung up before he could reply, but he didn't give a damn. Flinging the phone over his shoulder, he pressed the back of blondie's head down, calling out her name as she sucked him. Neither of the two realized that the light had changed until horns started to loudly blow behind them. Screeching off with the girl's face buried in his lap, DJ quickly took her back to the University of Miami in Coral Gables and made it to his second session in record time.

* * *

“So, how do I look, girl?” Lisa said turning sideways in her bedroom mirror to examine how her ass filled out the yellow Enyce bodysuit. Benita, standing alongside her, smacked her lips and tilted her head to one side. She wore the same body suit in black. Benita was also pleased with what she saw through her tinted frameless Miss Sixty shades. Both women knew they had the looks and body measurements that many women envied, and they were single. Lisa was ready for a man—not the thug on the corner who would end up in jail or prison; those collect calls and visits were over for her. She rubbed her full lips together after applying her lip gloss. Nails were done, toes painted, nose hairs pulled, and make up in flawless order.

“Benita, will you please bring your ass on here! I wanna stop at the store to buy some coolers,” she said looking down at the print between her thighs. “I should have trimmed my kitty hairs some.” Benita rolled her eyes and slid on the back of her earring. Grabbing their small Enyce tote bags, they headed out the door. Lisa opened the sunroof of her Acura and told Benita that Club Limelight held true to its reputation as she popped in her favorite CD and let it pump through the speakers. Benita was still thinking about Menage. Finally she met a man that didn't press her for sex out the gate—not that he got the chance. But she would have given him just that, which was something that no one had ever gotten with her. Everyone felt that because she was a stripper she'd spread her legs for that mighty dollar without hesitation—wrong!

“Maybe you'll bring a man home tonight and get some!” Lisa yelled over the music. She had yet to see Benita bring a man to the apartment.

“I'm not down with one-night stands like some freaks I know,” Benita said laughing.

“Whateva, but I betcha I'ma get somebody to lick my kitty tonight,” Lisa said snapping her fingers twice. Benita smiled at her silly cousin. Yeah, maybe Lisa was right; she should live a little.

* * *

“So what's the surprise, bruh?” Dwight sat on the hood of his BMW in Menage's driveway.

“Got a new whip,” Menage said stepping into his dark garage. He lightly ran his fingers over a platinum-colored Mercedes-Benz S600. It sat on triple chrome, twenty-one-inch custommade Neeper concept rims. Everything was voice-activated, and the interior was done in Gucci leather. Three eight-inch plasma screens along with four twelve-inch Alpine speakers made his S600 a showstopper. Slowly it pulled out of the garage, a bluish glow beneath it. Dwight laughed to himself as he got into his BMW.

“Yo, I got sumthin' in store for you later on, but I'ma wait till we get to tha club,” Menage said leaning his elbow out the window as he pulled alongside Dwight.

Dwight was thinking of Tina and stopped himself from using her favorite saying—Oh, really! “Let's roll, bruh,” was all he said, brushing the collar of his Armani jacket. Menage pulled off first, nearly blowing a fuse as he pushed his speakers to the max. He sported his regular jewelry—watch and chain—but tonight he added a four-fingered diamond encrusted ring that read PIMP on his left hand. His gear matched the inside of his S600, from his leather fedora, green tinted shades and the twenty-seven-hundred-dollar flannel flight suit—all by Gucci. Dwight was still feeling a little buzz as he brought up the rear. He knew Tina would have a fit if she knew the condition he was in while driving. Smoking weed would really put him on the couch. He planned to be sober by the time he got home, so it would be all gravy. Thinking of her as he sped down I-95 made him smile. She had been in his life for three years and they stuck together through the worst of times. It was pure love he had for her and he placed her before everyone—even Menage. The thought of life without her made him speed up and pull ahead of Menage . . . now he was leading. Maybe Tina was right, he thought. She was afraid that Menage's cheating ways would rub off on him and Dwight thought her thinking was simply foolish; their love was too strong.

* * *

Club Limelight was a tri-level 7,750 square foot club that did hold true to its rep but right now all the action was outside in the parking lot—parking lot pimping, you could call it, as everyone checked out the flashy rides. If you had the props and a costly ride, you were able to park in the VIP section, located under two huge lime green street lamps. Lisa and Benita sat on the hood of the Acura, waiting for the long line to shorten a bit. In the meantime, they enjoyed the action in the parking lot. There was loud music, mingling, souped-up bikes doing burnouts . . . and of course the police.

* * *

DJ pulled into the parking lot at Club Limelight. “Why are we stopping here?” asked his female passenger.

“I'm just riding through, that's all.” DJ turned to look at her and saw that she wasn't pleased. “Just keep the window up, can't nobody see inside,” he said grinning. She glared at him as he began to light a blunt.

“Will you put that mess out?” she snapped and pressed the button to lower the passenger's window slightly. She snatched the blunt out of his mouth and tossed it out of the window. DJ didn't stress. He would just drop her off and return to the club later.

* * *

“Girl, check out that Lex. Now that is off the hook. Maybe I can buy me one next year,” Lisa said. Benita turned to look just as the window inched down and a slender arm flung something out onto the street. The face couldn't be seen but Benita could tell it was a female. It was the shiny bracelet on the woman's wrist that caught her attention. She wondered about the bracelet but with so much going on and being on her third cooler, her mind failed to stay focused. She watched the Lexus slowly pull out of the parking lot as the deep thundering bass vibrated from its speakers.

* * *

Dwight was in the Limelight parking lot waiting for Menage to reveal his surprise.

“Yo, Dwight,” Menage said excitedly into his cell phone, “I'ma show you how to make a scene!” Right now nobody could tell him a thing. He was in his element, his world. He slowly cruised his S600 AMG into the parking lot. “CD two, song seven, volume max, windows down.” The four tinted windows and sunroof opened simultaneously. Seconds later music thumped loudly from the stunning Benz.