Crave All Lose All (12 page)

“And you believe that shit? C’ mon Chandra, don’t be pulling that moral shit on me. You and I know what you’re about, nice things, designer seams and as long as you’re getting yours, it’s easy to look the other way, right?”

“You don’t even know me, Vincent,” she replied bitterly.

“What? I was fucking you long enough to know a lot about that ass, bitch,” I shouted.

Slap!

“Fuck you!”

“Get the fuck out my house,” she screamed.

I knew I was wrong for saying that to her and I didn’t want to leave with her angry.

“Chandra, look…I’m sorry. I ain’t mean to say it like that.”

“Don’t ever disrespect me like that, Vincent…especially in my own home,” she warned.

“And I’m sorry. Look, let me make it up to you.” I went over to one of the bags and removed the gift I bought for her. “I got you a little sump’n too,” I said handing her the long black case.

She seemed uncertain taking it. Chandra looked at it and then at me. I wanted her to love the gift. I wanted to win over her heart again. Maybe start over. I loved her so much and wanted a future with her. I thought that the gift I purchased for her would hopefully be a start to our reconciliation.

“I don’t need anything from you, Vincent,” she said strongly.

“Nah, that’s yours to keep,” I said.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Chandra, when was the last time I bought you sump’n nice, huh? Now take the gift and open it up. Don’t insult me by denying it,” I said firmly.

She looked reluctant but opened the case and caught sight of the 18k white gold pendant necklace that suspended a black South Sea cultured pearl. I paid four grand for it. Chandra loved pearls and I knew it’d be the ideal gift.

“Ohmygod, Vincent,” she exclaimed. Her eyes were wide and fixated on the necklace.

“I assume you like the gift,” I said smiling.

“You remember… it’s beautiful,” she smiled.

“I’m glad that you like it. Put it on.”

I removed the necklace from her hands. Standing behind her, I gently fastened the necklace around her neck. Chandra rushed to the mirror and looked at the necklace sparkling around her neck.

“For you my queen,” I stated.

“How much did you pay for this?”

“Don’t worry about it, Chandra; it’s no dent in my pocket.”

She turned and looked at me, and her face suddenly looked worried. “I can’t take this from you Vincent. What will Jamal think? It’ll condone what you do in the streets,” she said unfastening the necklace.

“Chandra, don’t do this to me. The shit is yours, keep it. I’m not
leaving this apartment wit’ it.”

“Why does it have to be so difficult with you?”

“Why does it got to be so damn difficult wit’ you? You can’t take a simple gift from me?”

“This is not a simple gift.”

“You do what you want with it. I’m not taking it back. It’s cool that Jamal could buy you nice things and you good. I try and do right by you and you throw it back in my face. Fuck that nigga, yo. He can’t be me, Chandra. I can finally afford to buy you sump’n nice and you trash me.”

“It’s not even like that, Vincent. You know how I feel about you hustling. You gonna break your mother’s heart.”

“She doesn’t know what the fuck I do. And she ain’t gotta know, unless you fucking tell her.”

“I don’t even wanna be the one to break that poor woman’s heart like that. You’re her only child and God forbid something happens to you. Her husband is already in the grave. Now you want her to lose a son.”

“I didn’t come here to fight wit’ you. I wanted to do sump’n nice and be there for my son. But if it’s gonna be like this, then I’m out. I got too much shit to worry about, than to come here and beef wit’ you.”

I began walking to the door, Chandra was behind me.

“Vincent…”

“I’m tired and need some rest,” I said.

“Why do you gotta be like this, huh?” she asked glaring at me.

“I’m being my own man right now. You was beefin’ wit’ me when I was broke, about we ain’t got this and we need that. Now you’re beefin’ wit’ me when I’m paid. What the fuck you want from me? I’m trying! It’s fucking hard out there!” I barked.

“You think I don’t know that? I’m here trying to raise our son, working full time and hold down my own. Despite what you think of Jamal, he helps out somewhat. But he ain’t there like that. And I don’t want any shortcuts in my life, so the law or cops could snatch it away from me. I want a stable foundation and a home for Vinny. A home, Vincent, not a house…a home, there’s a difference, Vincent. And when I finally get mines, it’s gonna be for keeps.”

“You finished,” I replied sarcastically.

“Ohmygod, you could be such a little boy sometimes. Here, take your gift and leave and do what you do, cause your hard-headed Vincent,” she said, handing me the necklace.

“Like I said, you keep that. I don’t want it back, enjoy the shit. Tell my son I said hi.”

“You’re gonna learn the hard way,” Chandra said then the door slammed.

Fuck her
, I thought. Black women, I didn’t know what the fuck they wanted from a man. I wanted to impress her, but shit got thrown back in my face. I wanted to go back and talk to her but pride got in the way. I kept it moving. I didn’t want it to look like I was sweating her and left the building.

My life along with my personality was gradually changing. I was feeling like I had some control of my life. It felt stable. But the riches I was making had to get my hands muddy soon.

It was Iris’s twenty-first birthday. Tyriq was throwing a huge birthday party at Club A, a swanky club on Farmers Blvd near the Airport. It was popular and the revelers there were mostly teen, sprinkled with a few male knuckleheads and wanna-be gangsters.

Iris was Tyriq’s wifey. Her curvaceous figure, balloon tits and honey brown complexion belonged between the pages of a Black-tail magazine. Tyriq loved them young and sometimes naïve. He sometimes got them pregnant just as fast as he fucked them.

His white bitch, Susan, gave birth to a healthy baby boy two months ago. I heard, he’s only seen his son twice. He was too busy being a playboy, getting money and fucking bitches.

I pulled up to the club in my truck and noticed the winding long line outside. The cuties were looking like XXL’s eye candy models. Majority of the folks were waiting for Nelly to show up and perform his hit song,
Hot In Here.
Tyriq had real juice with Nelly’s manager and Iris was a huge Nelly fan. It was the perfect birthday gift.

At midnight, I parked my truck and walked to the club entrance. Confident, I was skipping the long wait and getting in without any hassle. I sported an Aem’Kei T-shirt, Evisu jeans and suede shoes by Clark. I had five grand in my pockets.

My diamond chain swung from my neck and the ladies were looking and admiring. I walked up to three bulky bouncers and said, “I’m here for the birthday party.”

I pulled out my wad of hundreds and gave the main bouncer a hundred dollar bill because I could. He took the c-note and said, “Yeah, I know you, you’re with Tyriq’s crew?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, it’s poppin in there my nigga, you good.” He removed the velvet rope that stood in between us and allowed entry into the wildest party in the city.

“Oooh, take me with you,” a brown-skin cutie in a jean skirt and tight T-shirt pleaded.

I looked at her and liked what I saw, because she came with two more friends that looked just as good.

“Yo, they wit’ me…” I said handing the bouncer an extra c-note.

He shrugged.

“C’mon, y’all wit’ a real baller now,” I said. They rushed past security and quickly followed behind me.

We walked into club A, hearing the deafening sound system blaring some Mobb Deep and Lil’ Kim. Moshe, Kimberly and Azarel were cousins visiting from B-more, staying in Crown Heights with family. We moved through the crowd, heading to the VIP section where the real party was taking place. I had two ladies, arm-in-arm.

“Vince, what’s good my nigga?” John-John greeted. We became real cool through the months.

“What’s good my nigga?” I gave him dap.

He looked at the three lovely ladies I was escorting, smiled and said, “You the man, Vince.”

I nodded and walked into Iris’ private birthday party. It was cluttered with ballers and hustlers. The high-end bitches were leaches to the money in the room. Cristal and Moet was everywhere and it looked like a scene out of New Jack City, fashion, jewelry and money flaunted.

Moshe and her cousins were rapidly impressed by the lavish scene and got real comfortable with a few hustlers. I spotted Tyriq seated in the middle of a large red sectional with Iris sitting by his side. He was surrounded by friends and business associates on both ends. He downed a bottle of Moet like it was Kool-aid, and there was money scattered everywhere, from the tables to the floors. It seemed like decoration.

“Ayyite, there goes my nigga right there,” Tyriq hollered raising the Moet bottle and gesturing me over. I gave a few niggas dap as I made it to what looked like the cool kids table.

“Happy birthday, Iris,” I said leaning forward and kissing her cheek.

“Thank you, Vince,” she replied smiling.

She looked good in turquoise sleeveless hooded jacket and corduroy Capri pants, with white leather boots. Her hair was styled in long braids to her back. She had a thin waistline, thick hips, along with her huge tits and ass. I couldn’t help but stare.

Lucky muthafucka
, I thought.

“Yo, take a seat and have a drink,” Tyriq offered.

I sat between him and Tip. He sipped his drink and had his arm around a beautiful brunette. The party was off the hook. DJ Clue got the crowd poppin’ with hot mixes. Spoon came through with his girl and it was like one big family. We laughed, got tipsy, and fucked with the finest bitches in the place.

Around two in the morning, Nelly finally came through with his huge entourage and performed his hit singles on the stage with his hype men. The ladies went berserk, rushing the stage to be near him and desperate to feel the sweat drip from his arms and chest, only to be pushed back by security.

They were screaming, pushing, and in awe over that country nigga and his country-ass rhymes. I mean, I gave him his respect because he was doing his thang, but myself, I was a Run DMC, Biggie, 2pac, and Nas listening nigga.

Iris was standing a few feet from the performance in complete amazement. Tyriq was next to her downing a bottle of Moet. Nelly came to Iris, took her by the hand, having Tyriq’s permission of course and pulled her onto the stage to celebrate her birthday in style. Iris looked like she was ready to jump on that nigga but Tyriq was watching.

I watched the performance holding a bottle of Grey Goose, laughed and then it dawned on me that I was wearing almost the same jewelry as Nelly. His diamond long chain was almost similar to mines, except a different pendant. I felt good inside. My bling was the status of a mega rap star and in my mind I was doing something right.

Spoon threw his arm around me and asked, “You having a good time,
my nigga?” He was a bit tipsy.

“Yo, this shit is poppin,” I replied.

“You doing that thang,” Spoon said hugging me.

Tyriq came by all smiles, clutching the half-empty bottle of Moet. He was dancing and looked like he was having fun. He grabbed me and Spoon in a close hug, and said, “Y’all my niggas… nah fuck that, y’all are my fuckin’ brothers for life.” He then looked at me and said, “Ayyite, I’m glad to see that finally all of my brothers are gettin’ that money. We doing our thang and the future is fucking ours. We the new Supreme team... Ayyite…”

Tyriq raised his bottle and proclaimed, “To us. Let us continue to hold these streets down for many years to come and get this money.”

“To us,” Spoon and I joined in, raising our bottles and clanking them, signified union.

I was happy with the family. Spoon and Tyriq were the closest to having brothers.

“Yo, yo, y’all mind if I snap a picture of y’all three?” the photographer asked. He’d been snapping pictures all night and finally got us together.

“Go ahead and snap that pic,” Tyriq proudly said.

We gathered closely together our arms around each other, bottles raised in the air posing like we were gangsters. The photographer took five pictures of us in different poses then passed us his business card.

“I be putting them on line, on this website I got,” he said.

“Fuck that, send me like a dozen copies,” Tyriq said giving the photog a hundred dollar bill.

“Yo, I want copies too,” I said.

“Same damn thang here,” Spoon said.

We both reached into our pockets and passed him c-notes. He smiled telling us the pictures would be available tomorrow.

What we had was a brotherhood. Over the years, I drifted from Spoon and Tyriq. Now it was fun hanging out with them again and making money. I felt equal.

Around four in the morning, I left the party with Moshe under my wing. I was thinking pussy and knew I had the right bitch for the night as I staggered out the club tipsy. Moshe two other cousins were wasted from the drinks they consumed throughout the night and were soon about to become
jump-offs for a few of my niggas. I didn’t give a fuck about them, because I already had my piece.

I drove to the nearest motel to get a room for the night. Grey Goose and Moet flowed through my system. I was high and felt so fuckin’ horny, that I was ready to spread Moshe’s pussy open wide like the Grand Canyon.

It was nearing fall and the money I was making with Tyriq, the holidays were going to be good for my son, family and myself. I had a birthday coming in December and knew that I wanted to celebrate it. Styling with money, bitches, champagne and hordes of celebrities, I wanted to do what music moguls and rap stars do.
Couldn’t afford
was no longer in my category—drug money was soon to become my only currency.