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Authors: Erick S. Gray

Nasty Girls (7 page)

BOOK: Nasty Girls
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“Before the end of the night . . . I wanna hold you so tight . . . You know I want you so much . . . and I'm so tempted to touch . . . tempted to touch, tempted to touch . . .” I opened my eyes and noticed the fellows watching me hard as I danced. Even Roscoe smiled at me.

But the DJ was killing me—he was definitely doing his thing tonight. He switched it up from “Tempted to Touch” to some Wayne Wonder, Sean Paul, Beenie Man, and Spragga Benz. I stood by the wall, grinding against my man, and had my hands feeling up my inner thighs, gyrating my hips against Roscoe's pelvis. I felt my man getting hard, but I didn't mind. Shit, if I had a dick, I'd get hard too, the way I was dancing up on him.

I was the center of attention. I even noticed the ladies watching me. Reggae and soca is my thing. My family is Jamaican, and you know I get down on the dance floor once I hear that beat and the smooth lyrics from my West Indian brothers.

I looked over at Jade and James, and Jade was dancing alone. James, I guess, wasn't much of a dancer, not to reggae anyway. He stood there next to Jade with a drink in his hand and observed the crowd. No one attempted to dance with Jade, especially when she had her thugged-out-looking man right next to her.

We all partied, drank, and got our groove on for hours. I ain't
gonna front—a bitch was a little tipsy and shit. I had two Long Island iced teas, half of some Hennessey, and some Belvedere. Sean Paul got onstage and did his thing. He ripped the crowd and had everyone going berserk when he started to perform “Get Busy” and “I'm Still in Love with You.”

By three, a bitch wanted to go home. The club was still jam-packed, and I observed that there were a lot more hustlers and thugs up in the place.

I was chilling by the bar, and Roscoe was off with some of his peoples. James came by the bar and ordered himself a drink. Then he turned and looked at me and said, “You look nice, Shy.”

“Thanks,” I said, being short.

I had no words for the man. He disrespected Jade, and I wondered what his excuse was for Jade to accept him back. He gazed at me for a moment, making me feel a bit uncomfortable. The man was sexy, I admit, but from Jade's mouth, he was fucked up and can be a jerk sometimes.

The roaring and thunderous sound of 50 Cent's hit song, “In da Club,” boomed throughout the club and made it difficult to speak. Revelers jumped up and bopped around the dimly lit space, and it got so crazy that people started bumping into each other. This one fool who wasn't watching where he was going bumped into me and almost spilled his drink on me.

“Excuse me!” I shouted over the music.

This fool turned around and looked at me like I'd done something wrong. I glared at him. He smiled.

James sternly intervened. “Yo, apologize, nigga!” He glared at the man.

“My bad, ma,” the man apologized, intimidated by James. And then he got lost in the crowd.

I turned to James and said, “Thank you.”

“I got you, Shy,” he said.

I took a sip from my drink and peered around the club while James stood next to me. I wondered what the fuck was he still around for?

Jade came up to us and gave her man a kiss. Jade got herself another drink, which James paid for, and she started chatting with me. But I couldn't really hear shit, so I told her to walk with me to the bathroom.

When we walked in the bathroom, I asked her, “Um . . . what happened wit' y'all two?”

“Nuthin'. He said what he had to say, and I listened . . . ,” she explained.

“And that thing with Tasha?”

“Ill. I thought about it, I know James's taste in women, and Tasha ain't his type.”

“So you just gonna let it be, and that's it?” I asked, somewhat bewildered by her nonchalant attitude.

“Shy, really . . . I ain't come here to discuss my relationship wit' James. He ain't perfect, and neither is your man, so let's drop it, okay,” she said with a slight attitude in her voice.

I looked at her, like
What?
But before I could even utter another word, a bunch of ladies rushed into the bathroom, yelling, “They fightin'. They fightin'!”

Jade and I looked at each other, and I guess we both were thinking the same thing: James and Roscoe. We maneuvered through the thick sea of women that had taken safety in the bathroom and ran out into the club to see a brawl of men fighting in the middle of the dance floor. The lights were on, and it looked like chaos.

I looked around for Roscoe, and of course, he was in the middle of it, swinging a chair at someone's head. And James was pouncing on two guys.

I ran up to Roscoe, grabbed him by his arm, and shouted, “Baby, c'mon! Let's go!”

I looked down at the victim he was pouncing on, and it was that same fool that bumped into me earlier. His face was a bloody mess.

Roscoe looked at me, his face twisted with rage, and he grabbed me by my arm and ran with me out of the club. I turned around to look for Jade, but she was nowhere in sight.

We exited the club, and it was the same outside, niggas were wilding. I didn't even know what set this shit off, but I heard police sirens in the distance, and I damn sure didn't want me and my man getting caught up in the middle of this.

We both jumped into the Escalade and Roscoe peeled off around the corner. He drove fast down the backstreets; I know he wasn't trying to get pulled over by the police, because he had a loaded nine-millimeter under the driver's seat.

A few blocks on, and Roscoe finally slowed down. We came at a red light, and I looked at him. I took a deep breath and asked, “Baby, what happened?”

I noticed that he had blood on his hand as he gripped the steering wheel. “You hurt?”

“Nah, I'm good,” he calmly replied. He still stared out the windshield.

I took his hand to inspect it, but he pulled it back from me. “I said I'm a'ight,” he said, his voice raised a little.

I sighed. The light changed, and he quickly pulled off.

I wanted to know what went down back there. “Baby, you sure you're okay?” I asked, but he didn't answer me.

I thought about Jade, and I worried if her and her man made it out of there okay. I picked up my cell phone and started to dial up her number. But it rang and rang, until I got her voice mail. I dialed again, and I got the same thing, her voice mail.

“Roscoe, you think James and Jade made it out there okay?” I asked. But he didn't answer. I thought,
What the fuck is his problem now?

We made it back to the hood in no time. Roscoe parked his truck, and we walked back to our apartment. I kept my mouth shut. I knew his attitude, and if he didn't wanna talk about it right now, I left it alone.

The minute we stepped into the apartment, Roscoe went straight in the bathroom, I guess to wash the blood off his hands. I went into the bedroom to get undressed.

After I slipped outta my clothing and put on something more comfortable, I picked up my phone and tried calling Jade again. I got her voice mail again. Fuck. Now I was more than a little worried. When Roscoe came into the bedroom, I asked him to call up James and see if they were all right. But he ignored me. I noticed that he wasn't getting ready for bed; this nigga was changing clothes to go back out.

Nah, I wasn't trying to hear that shit. I jumped up and barked, “Where you going?”

“Back out,” he explained drily.

“Fuck you mean? You staying here,” I said with attitude.

He smirked, looking like,
Whatever!

“Roscoe, why you playin'? What if sumthin' happens to you out there? Stay here, baby. Don't worry 'bout out there tonight,”
I pleaded, gripping his shirt and looking him in the eyes.

But his stubborn fucking ass continued to get dressed, like my concern was unimportant to him.

“Baby, call James. Call him,” I said.

“He a'ight,” he said.

“How you know?”

“Because I know that nigga can handle himself.”

“What about Jade?”

“Shy, go to bed. I'll be back,” he said.

He strolled outta the bedroom and headed for the door. I followed him. I pulled him by his jacket, begging for him to stay. I wanted him to keep me company. I didn't want my man to leave. But he turned around and shouted, “Shy, go to bed! I'll be back! Damn!” And just like that, my fucking man bounced on me.

~ CHAPTER 5 ~
camille

I
t was damn near four in the morning, and my damn phone was ringing constantly. You know that pissed a sista off. I'm trying to get my sleep.

I reached over and picked the phone.

“Camille,” I heard Shy cry out.

“Shy. What's goin' on?” I asked. I know Shy wouldn't call me this early in the morning if it wasn't important.

“It's Roscoe. Somethin' happened tonight, a fight broke out at a club, and we broke out. But I'm tryin' to call Jade, and she's not pickin' up her phone, and Roscoe left out here just now . . . ,” she explained all in one breath.

“Shy, calm down,” I said. “What happened again?”

“I don't know; everything happened so quickly. I need you to come get me.”

“Come get you. Where you at?”

“Home. But I gotta find Roscoe. I'm worried about him.”

“Call his phone,” I said.

“I am, but he's not pickin' up. What if sumthin' happened to him?” she said. She sounded frantic.

“A'ight. I'll be over there in a half hour,” I said.

“Thank you, Camille.”

I hung up and reluctantly got dressed. Damn, I swear—these bitches and they drama. I'm like some kind of counseling center—they always come to me. I know I'm the oldest, but come on, give a sista a break.

I threw on some sweatpants, Nikes, and a light jacket and headed down the block to Shy's building. I knocked hard on her door, and she answered within seconds. I could tell she was crying: her eyes were puffy, and her face was stained with tears.

She let me in and closed the door.

“Shy, you a'ight?” I asked, concerned.

She sat on the couch and recapped the night's events. Now I'm thinking somebody got shot or killed, but she getting all worried and troubled about niggas brawling in a club. I mean, come on—niggas fight all the time, and I know this wasn't the first fight she's seen or been through. But I did understand her concern when it came to Roscoe. He could be a hothead, and there was no telling when he left out that door what his true intentions were.

So I calmed her down, and she called Jade up one more time. But Jade didn't pick up. Now I got a little worried myself. Shy wanted to drive back down to the club and see what popped off. But I told her it wouldn't be worth it. I had a better idea. I decided to call Jade's crib, instead of her cell phone. And guess what, this bitch picked up. Shy was so relieved. We all didn't waste time chatting on the phone. Shy and I went to her apartment.

We got to Jade's crib in minutes. She came to the door in her house robe and hugged Shy.

“Girl, you okay?” Shy asked.

“I was worried about you,” Jade replied.

“I've been callin' your phone all night, and you ain't pick up,” Shy said.

“I lost that shit,” Jade explained. “I lost all of my shit—my purse, my cell, and my keys. It's a good thing James had an extra set.”

“What happened to James?” I asked.

“He dropped me off and left,” Jade explained.

“Roscoe too.”

“I heard somebody got stabbed tonight,” Jade told us.

“Who?” Shy and I asked in unison.

“I don't know, one of James's friends. I don't know how everything started, but James was really upset. His phone went off while we were driving home, and he dropped me off in front of the building and left.”

See, that's why I don't fuck wit' none of these local shits, especially anything in Queens and Brooklyn. Manhattan, Long Island, I'll fuck with, probably, as long as it's upscale and niggas can't get in wit' jerseys, sneaker, Timbs, hoodies, and shit.

Well, of course I ended up staying the night at Jade's crib, gossiping and talking about what went down. We talked until my eyes became heavy. I tried to wait up with Jade and Shy, waiting for their boyfriends to come home, but I ended up falling asleep on her couch.

 

M
orning came quick, and I woke up on Jade's sofa. I looked over, and Shy was asleep in a chair across from me. I looked at the time and it was 9 a.m. on Sunday morning.

Damn, I had been tired last night. The first thing I wanted to do was go home, jump in the shower, and brush my teeth. I had morning breath, for real. And sleeping on this couch didn't make waking up easier. I was still in my sweats and a tank top, and felt somewhat funky.

I peered around the room. I guess Jade was in her bedroom. I stood up, and that's when I heard someone at the door. I figured it was James, so I threw my jacket over me, trying to look somewhat decent.

James came into the room, looking furious. His jeans were dirty, and his wife-beater was torn and had a lil' bit of blood on it. He looked a mess.

Shy finally woke up. She immediately jumped up out of her chair and asked, “James, where's Roscoe?”

James looked over at Shy. I knew something had gone wrong last night. Before James could say something, Jade stepped into the room. She saw her man standing there, and she went up to him and hugged him strongly.

“Ohmygod, baby—what happened to you?” Jade asked, breaking away from him and observing his scruffy condition.

“Shit went bad last night,” James said.

“Bad? I heard someone got stabbed,” I said.

“What happened to Roscoe?” Shy asked.

James looked at Shy and said, “He got arrested.”

“What?”
Shy, Jade, and myself exclaimed.

“Arrested. Fo' what?” Shy asked, looking frantic.

BOOK: Nasty Girls
9.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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