Love and a Gangsta (28 page)

The strip club was nude and had an assortment of exotic fine looking women from black, white, Asian, Russian that was there to please and tease. The music was urban, with a strobe light flashing over the stage and the place was crammed with regulars that were eager to have a good time with their pick of strippers. We paid the measly twenty dollars admission fee, got searched at the door, and went in to ball and have a good time.

The three of us walked up to the stage eyeing this Asian chick with a body like Whoa!

“That’s what Greasy’s talkin’ about.”

“Can I get you fellas something to drink?” A female waitress asked.

“Yeah, beautiful, how much for you?” Omega joked.

She smiled and replied with, “I’m priceless.”

“Please, everything comes wit’ a price,” he countered.

“I have a boyfriend,” she answered.

“What your boyfriend got to do with this?”

“Listen, you want a drink or not?” she asked.

“Lemme get a few bottles of your best stuff. Y’all serve Moet and Cristal in here?” Omega asked.

“We have everything, it will cost though,” she informed.

“I look like I care?” Omega asked.

“Okay.”

Omega passed her a c-note before she walked away.

“That’s for you, spend it in good health.” He smiled.

She smiled and was off. We took a seat near one of the stages and watched nude girls perform. Greasy already started tipping a voluptuous chick nothing but tens and twenties. A short while later, the same waitress came to our table with two bottles of Moet and one bottle of Cristal. Then she set down our drinking glasses. Omega pushed a thousand dollars on her and told her to keep the change.

“You sure I can’t get your number wit’ that?” he asked. She smiled at Omega, walking away.

“Shorty ahight, Soul. Word, I need to get at that,” Omega said.

I poured myself a glass of Moet, and sat back and watched the performances.

The night went on, and we got tipsy. Drinking and tipping the girls with big bills, we put up with the deejay’s wack-ass music selection. I spent over fifteen-hundred. I sat there in my seat, eyeing the stage, as the fog machine began filling the stage.

“Ahight, my dudes, coming to the stage, is ours truly and one of the most beautiful girls known… Here’s Joanna,” the deejay announced.

As the mist cleared, and the stage was visible, there was Joanna, America’s best friend, sprawled out on stage in a blue mesh long robe with nothing else on underneath, and in clear seven-inch stilettos. Her tits were exposed, and her figure was thick and shapely. She was so beautiful up on the stage twirling, grinding, and moving seductively against the long pole in the
middle of the platform. I looked on in awe, as did Greasy and Omega.

“How Greasy ain’t know that bitch a stripper…?” Greasy looked baffled.

“Damn yo, that bitch Joanna got my dick hard for a muthafucka,” Omega said.

Her performance was top notch. She danced to Prince, Michael Jackson, Jay-Z and Ciara. Wowing the three of us like damn! Joanna was on beat, grinding it out on stage, enticing niggas. A few had to get up and use the bathroom. Even when she saw the three of us staring at her, her performance didn’t stop, she never looked shocked. Joanna continued doing her thing like she just didn’t care.

Greasy got up to tip her, and dropped five-hundred dollars on her easily. It felt wrong for me watching America’s best friend perform naked on stage, but I couldn’t turn away. She got paid that night, getting so much attention that I thought she was gonna need a bodyguard soon. When her session was finished, she donned her blue mesh long robe, collected her earnings in a trash bag and walked off stage diva-like.

“I need to holla at that bitch,” Omega said.

He got up, and I followed behind him. We met up with her near the entrance to the ladies dressing room.

“Joanna, damn girl, when you gonna let a nigga get at that, and take you out?” Omega said loudly.

“What the fuck brought y’all here?” she asked.

“We came out to have a good time, had to get the fuck out the hood for a minute, you know what I’m sayin,” Omega said. “Shit, if I knew you were dancing up in here like that, I would a came through sooner.”

“Omega, just step off…you know you ain’t my type,” she barked.

“What! I heard every nigga is your type if they ballin’. Why you tryin’ to play me? You know I’m makin’ ends. Doin’ big things in the hood,” Omega boasted.

“Too thuggish for my taste, Omega. I don’t deal with no thugs,” she said.

“Thug? Bitch, if I’m a thug, then what the fuck was your father, he was the most thuggish nigga round the way,” Omega said.

“No nigga, my father was a gangsta, not some wannabe. There’s a difference. My father had class. You’ll never be like my father. You’re just crazy and a fuckin hothead.”

“Yo, Joanna, watch what you say to me, before I slap the white off your ass,” Omega barked.

“You’ll never change, just fuck off, nigga,” she spat.

Omega stepped to her, but I pulled him back, saying, “Nigga, chill, we ain’t come here for beef.”

“See, no fuckin’ class at all,” she told him, before walking into the dressing room.

“Fuck that bitch!” Omega hissed. “And fuck her father, what that nigga gonna do to me. He locked up in the feds, doing life way out in Kentucky somewhere. He don’t hold no weight around the way anymore. She lucky I just don’t take the pussy, I done did it before.”

“C’mon Mega, you’re tipsy, let’s go back to the table,” I said.

I had to hold Omega back and pulled him to the table. He was heated by Joanna’s remarks. He sat down in his seat, and within minutes, he had some new chick on his lap with her tits in his face, calming him down.

After I knew he was good, I went over to the bar and ordered a Corona. As I stood waiting for the bartender to bring me my drink, I felt somebody slap me upside my head. I was about to turn around and get ghetto, but it was Joanna, glaring at me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You trying to get locked back up?” she said.

“What the fuck?”

“And what’s up with you and my girl, America. She called me last night so upset… Crying bout you being in some pictures with some stank ho.”

“Look, I done told her, those photos were taken a while ago. I’m good to her now, Joanna. Since I’ve been home. I’ve been faithful to her,” I explained.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Ahight let me get my drink first.”

Beer in hand, Joanna and I took a seat in the back, near the backrooms,
where it was less crowded. She was always real and to the point. That’s why I liked her. She sat across from me.

“Soul, you fuckin’ up, I’m gonna let you know. I had a long talk with America last night, and right now, she doesn’t know what to do with you. She loves you, but she’s thinking about divorcing you if you don’t get your act together.”

“Divorce?” I exclaimed, choking on the beer.

“Yes. But I know she didn’t truly mean it. She was just upset and shit. But don’t be fuckin’ my girl over, nigga.”

“Yo, I’m getting’ my shit right, why the fuck she trippin? I’m working, I ain’t wit’ the streets anymore. Yo, I’m tryin’ to do me.”

“You could’ve fooled me.” Joanna chuckled.

“Fuck you talkin’ about?”

“I see you up in here with Omega and Greasy, and I know what they’re about—trouble. You got the shines on, pocket full of money, and you got my girl seeing less and less of you everyday. What’s good with that, Soul? Now you say that you ain’t fuckin’ up, but how does she know that.”

“Because I ain’t. I love my wife, and will do anything for her and my unborn. I’m just in here having a good time, and I know America still upset, so I’m giving her time to blow over.”

“You need to go see her.”

“She kicked me out.”

“So what? You need to go over there and have a serious talk with her, before things get more dramatic with you two. She’s upset, but I know she wants you to come back home to her.”

I sat there, thinking about the drama that was going on between my wife and I. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“I know you love her, Soul. You’re not like your friends. I think you’ve changed, Soul. You’re talented I mean extremely talented with music. When you first got out, I had my doubts and warned my girl to be cautious. But you’re married to her and now y’all having a child, you and America have something special. Don’t fuckin’ waste my girl’s time if you gonna be like your friends over there.”

“C’mon Joanna, you know—”

“No, in a few years, they’ll be where my father is—doing life in a federal prison. They’ve got nothing going for them… Yeah, they’ve got money, cars, women, jewelry and all that materialistic shit. The truth is they’re empty inside. You’re better than that, Soul. You have someone who loves you and you have something to look forward to, a child. My father was a hustler, took care of me with money… But where he is now? He’ll never be a free man again. Don’t end up watching your kids grow up from a distance behind bars like him. You and America, with y’all talents… Y’all could be the next JayZ and Beyonce in music. Usually I mind my business, but America’s my girl for life, and I don’t wanna see her hurt, Soul.”

“Did America ask you to come and talk to me?”

“No, she was against it, but I can’t stand by and watch the two of you fuck things up.”

I sat uneasy in the chair, thinking about what Joanna just said to me.

“Look, I gotta go, you need to think about shit and get on the fuckin’ job and be a good husband to my girl, and a great father to my godchild,” she said.

She got up and left and I remained seated. My family issues weighed heavy on my mind.

“Yo, what that bitch was over here talkin’ to you about?” Omega asked.

“What?” I replied.

“You been over there for a minute. You tryin’ a fuck her, Soul?” Omega asked.

“I’m ready to go,” I said.

“What now? I’m tryin’ to bring some bitches wit’ me,” Omega said.

“With or without you nigga, I’m out,” I said.

I got up and walked by him. I belonged at home, working things out with my pregnant wife. I was growing and knew it could only get better for me. I done been through hell already.

Riding silently in the back of Omega’s Yukon, I was peering out the window, thinking about my wife and my life as we drove on the Long Island Expressway. It was very quiet. Around three in the morning, we were in Queens. Omega wanted to stop by the club on Liberty Ave. I just wanted to go home, but he needed to take care of some business.

There were lots of people outside when we pulled up to the club. I was feeling upset about this move. Saying they’d be back in a few minutes, Omega and Greasy got out the truck. I remained seated in the backseat.

I waited patiently for fifteen minutes but was getting agitated by the seconds. It hurt me deeply to find out America was thinking of getting a divorce. Even though she was angry, just the thought of it crossing her mind made me upset.

Trying to get my mind right, I glanced out the truck and saw Alexis exit the club nestled under a nigga’s arm. All of a sudden the pictures came back to mind. It had to be that bitch that played me foul. She was always jealous of America, and wanted to destroy my marriage.

Without thinking, I stepped out the truck and walked up to them, as they were strolling down the block like a loving couple.

“Alexis,” I called out. “I need to holla at you.”

She and her male friend turned around, looking at me. “Soul, what you want?” she asked with attitude.

“Lemme talk to you a second.”

“About what? I’m not feelin’ you right now, you keep dissin’ me,” she barked.

I walked up to her and grabbed her arm, saying, “Why you gotta play games for?”

“What, nigga step off, cause I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ you no more. Fuck you and your wife!” she shouted.

“Don’t go there,” I snapped, tightening my grip around her arm.

“Get off me!” she shouted.

“Yo, chill nigga,” her male companion intervened.

“This ain’t got nothing to do with you, nigga, so step the fuck off,” I shouted.

“Why you gotta send pictures to my wife and blow my spot up like that?” I continued.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about. Get the fuck off me!”

“Yo, nigga, she said get the fuck off her!” her friend shouted at me. He stepped up to me like he wanted to battle.

“Nigga, you better fall back before I drop you,” I warned.

“Soul, stop. Get off me, get off me now!” she screamed.

This dude walked up to me, grabbing at me. I jerked my arm free from his grip, and shouted, “Don’t fuckin’ touch me, nigga!”

“What you gonna do!” he chided. He got up in my face, towering over me by a few inches. I was far from being intimidated.