Page 23

I suck the straw of my margarita like I’m about to die in fifteen minutes. And if this nigga don’t stop acting so damn simple, that statement might ring true.

The Atrium is a huge dome-styled venue, with a mezzanine that acts as a VIP area with its own bar, and merch stand. Since we all have VIP tickets, we can stay up here, or watch the show in a predesignated area to the right of the stage for friends and family.

I’ve never been here before, and I can admit I’ve quietly taking in the space and electric energy in the air, but the operative word here is quietly. This big dumb nigga is acting like he’s never been no where nice before, and the way Reem and Ty keep smirking and snickering at me, I’m liable to throw this nigga over the railing.

I almost start shouting like I’m in church when he excuses himself to go to the restroom. It’s not lost on me that everything this nigga does is magically getting on my nerves today, but I can’t decide if I just didn’t have anyone to compare him to and he’s always been lame, or if my brain recognizes that Harry Houdini ass nigga Rahshad is back and Brandon just isn’t cutting it anymore.

I down the rest of my marg and set the empty cup on the bartop. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.

Totally not trying to lose Brandon, I make my way downstairs to where everyone else is. YT eyes me, but I stick my nose up and sit next to Dal. That’s not gonna detour her though, especially since YC plucks me by the knot in my halter top and drags me back to where YT is standing, arms folded, having the nerve to look hurt.

“How long are you going to be like this? He’s back, so your anger should cancel out.”

Her crazy ass whines every time she doesn’t get her way, right before she does something absolutely insane. I know the only reason why she hasn’t tied me up is because I’m me.

“Where was he?”

She rolls her eyes and juts her jaw out.

“Deeze, it’s not my–”

“Place,”

I finish for her.

“I get it. I’m not mad, really True.”

I smirk as she gasps, knock YC’s hand off me and walk over toward Reem and the other guys. It’s his turn to try and kill her in their weird sexually charged cat-and-mouse game, so I know at least for tonight, she won’t get close.

I feel the Triplets’ eyes burning holes in my back, but I don’t care. YT chose up, and her brothers, though older, follow her lead. They’re a dangerous enemy to have, but shit, Mika ain’t raise no punk bitch.

“Shad and YT come up in our meeting, knock us all out, and then he disappears for three months after telling us Sincere the one who shot you. You ain’t let us make no moves, and now we all out in public at this concert?”

I hear Nutty lament as I walk up. Reem glances at me and pulls me into the circle, letting his arm rest on my shoulder.

“Look,”

Set says, rubbing his waves.

“nigga said he got it under control, so let’s let him rock. Earlier, he seemed better than he’s been for awhile. Nigga more than capable.”

“Bright eyed, bushy-tailed. Nigga ready to work,”

Reem agrees.

“The nigga knew the name of Mace’s new boyfriend. How in the hell does that mean he’s okay?!”

Autumn bucks her eyes at the group.

Reem pulls me in more when I stiffen, but Turk just chuckles.

“Shit, that means he’s in prime shape to make shit shake. Hope you ain’t too attached to him, sis.”

Nut waves Turk off for me.

“That nigga a mark. be bored I’m convinced… still, you prolly should dump ‘em before he end up missing.”

I buck my eyes.

“Why are y’all just talking about this out in the open?”

“You the one brought an outsider, tryna make my brother jealous. You petty, .”

Set cuts his eyes at me, making me bristle.

A loud cackle from behind me grates my nerves, especially when I look and see it’s that bitch Sahara with one of her costars of that dumb ass show talking to Brandon’s fanned out ass. I turn back around, and everyone’s smirking at me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Set,”

I say through clenched teeth.

“Ay, yo nigga acting real friendly, Deeze. You might wanna check that before my brother reminds him who he’s here with.”

Prince grabs my hand and starts fiddling with my rings, a telltale sign he’s overstimulated. He’s only here off the strength of me and YT, and when I simper at him, he winks at me.

We step away from the guys.

“You wanna leave? I’ll come with.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m straight. I got my ear plugs if it gets to be too much. You just worry about ya mans.”

I lock eyes with YC, who cuts his to Brandon, letting me know he means business. I pray for discernment as I drag Prince over to them. Sahara sticks her nose up at me, before hearts fills her eyes when she notices Prince.

I figured she’d be like that, the colorstruck bitch she is.

“Baby, this is Sahara and her friend Isis. Sahara is Shotta’s girl,”

Brandon cheerfully says. Sahara and the bitch smirk at me like I’m supposed to give a fuck.

“And who is this?”

her friend says, walking her hands on Prince’s chest.

Long ass nails catch my eye as YT steps into my space. She grips the girl’s hand so hard she whimpers, eyes wide in shock.

YT just grins, baring her teeth.

“Touch my brother again and they’ll be cleaning your guts up off the floor for the rest of the year,”

she hisses.

I grab Brandon and pull him toward our seats before YC or Reem can come, and make his dumb ass sit down.

“What’s wrong–”

“Look, Brandon. I told you we come from two different worlds. You fanned out right now and my friends, my siblings… they’re real protective of me. And Shotta’s girlfriend don’t fuck with me nor my baby. Don’t be in her fucking face.”

Brandon’s face hardens for a second before smoothing out.

“I told you about that cursing, honey.”

This nigga.

Dal comes to her seat next to me and pulls me into a conversation with Brina, saving myself from having to explain to this nigga he don’t run me. Soon, everyone is at their seats, and Shad’s DJ takes the stage.

I’ve been to one of Shad’s concerts, back when he was still only Shotta to me. The nigga can put on a show, and his fans are diehard. Even though I can’t stand him, the energy pulsing through the venue keeps a smile on my face, and when the lights go black, I’m on my feet screaming with everyone else.

The bass from Shad’.

“No Love”

drops and the crowd somehow gets louder. I look over to Prince, breathing a sigh of relief when I see his ear plugs are secured.

As soon as I focus back on the stage, Shaddy walks out, and my breath stalls.

His ass is even finer than he was a few hours ago.

Dark green short sleeve dickie shirt with the matching straight leg work pants. His shirt is unbuttoned, showing his signature bulletproof vest. Blinged out diamond chains sparkle down his neck, one with a birch tree, the other a pendant with Sean, his late best friend, connected to it. Down one of his pant legs, FD4L is spray painted in white, and a birch tree is spray painted on the back of his shirt. Gold rimmed Cartier frames that are definitely prescription, because his ass is blind as a bat.

And somehow, the nigga was able to get an edge up, making his plaits look even more fire.

This nigga got one chuck taylor clad food on top of the speaker as he aggressively raps his lyrics to the crowd. The hand not holding the mic? Is throwing up all the different hand signs that represent his gang.

The crowd raps on with him, through the first verse, chorus, and second verse. The music cuts out after the chorus, and the crowd–including all the girls and me–scream at the top of our lungs. The guys throw up their Birch sign, and Shaddy basks in it all, showing all thirty-two.

“How y’all fucking doing, Kenton?!”

he says into the mic.

It’s pandemonium in The Atrium.

“Heard y’all been looking for a nigga? Well, shit, let’s get to it then. Drop that shit.”

I’m rapping every song he does. Peanuthead gets Dal and I on camera acting like it’s our concert. He goes through the rest of his album, and then some other singles and features he has, too.

Autumn and I cheer Wyn on when she skips out onto the stage to perform her song Shad is featured on. Wyn hasn’t performed since before her accident, and I would say the crowd goes up, but it’s been nonstop cheers for the last hour. Sahara and her friend look stank as hell when the song’s over, and Wyn and Shad hug. She comes to our side of the stage, hops off, and lets the security carry her over the barricade into our section.

She and Autumn hug first, with them swinging side to side. They’re far away from us, but it looks like she’s congratulating her sister, who blushes at the praise. I glance behind Autumn, at Rico, who’s smirking at Wyn. But when she locks eyes with him, it falls, and his eyes do that weird thing they do like he’s dead, like he wasn’t just smiling at her. Wyn wiggles out of Autumn’s arms to go through the section, with me last.

She beams at me.

“I gave you three months. It’s a hot girl fall!”

she whispers in my ear. When she releases me I wink at her, and she returns it before disappearing behind me.

When I look back up at the stage, Shad’s looking right at me. Jaw clenched. Holding the mic right below his mouth. The screams of the concert fall away. The doofus beside me. The bitch in front of me. They’re all gone.

Only me and the man who tripped me up.

I can’t even begin to describe how I feel toward him. I’m pulled in so many directions, but they all lead to the same thing.

Him.

He glances next to me briefly. A smirk pulls one corner of his mouth up, as he lifts the mic up to his mouth.

“If you a OG Shotta fan, then you know I started out in a duo. My nigga YB, may he rest in peace. He the coldest rapper I know, dead or alive. And there’s a song he made that went viral years back called ‘Be My Girl.’”

My eyes stretch. I love that damn song. An old clip of Sean I watched years ago explained that he was a lover boy at heart, and wanted a song to play to his wife when he knew he met her.

In my periphery, I see the screen behind him change. At first, it was old clips of Shad performing, and him in the studio either making beats or in the booth. Now it’s the music video to the song. Amateur is hell, with a young Sean and his love interest filmed around the Center.

“This one’s for you shorty,”

he croons into the mic, before turning to center stage and singing the chorus. Sahara and her friend squeal like he was talking about her, and I stifle my laugh. What a dumb bird.

“Why was he staring at you just now?”

Brandon says into my ear.

I turn toward him as he straightens, an unreadable expression on his face. I shrug, and he leans closer again.

“I get he’s your people, but that seemed personal. Who exactly is he to you, ?”

I lick my lips and he turns so I can speak directly in his ear.

“He’s Sadé’s father.”

He whips his head back like I spit on him, and grabs my hand. I let him lead me out into the hall so we don’t make a scene, but as soon as we clear the area I snatch my hand back.

“You got me, your man, at your baby daddy’s concert?” he fumes.

I really try to hold in my laugh, but I can’t help the smile that forms.

“Who said you were my man, Brandon?”

“This shit isn’t funny, . That nigga’s dedicating songs to you and shit like I’m not the one rubbing your feet after a long day, like I’m some sucka nigga. Nah, fuck that. Let’s go.”

I take a step back from him toward Shaddy.

“I’m not leaving. If you gotta problem, I understand, and you can let me know you made it home, but I ain’t got no problem. You was laughing in his bitch’s face like a groupie, and I don’t feel no way. She’s right in front of us, so clearly we not on that.”

His lips form a straight line.

“So you not coming with me?”

I buck my eyes and shake my head.

“No, I said that already.”

He narrows his eyes before waving me off and stomping toward the exit. He looks back one more time, like he thought I was supposed to follow him, but I just fold my arms and jut my hip out, before he finally leaves the building.

He can’t possibly even think to be my nigga letting Shaddy scare his ass off like that. A real nigga would have got on that stage and boxed him up.

I slide back into my seat. Dal dramatically looks behind me, before narrowing her eyes. I just shake my head, and reach for her drink before I think better of it. Ain’t no telling how she uses her mouth now.

All the guys start filing up onto the stage. Shaddy has shed his shirt and bulletproof vest, leaving only his chains on his glistening chest.

He daps up everyone, leaving Set for last. Shaddy smiles up at his brother and my heart pangs. I can only imagine how they were when they were younger.

“Thank y’all for rocking with me tonight, foreal. I know y’all missed me, and I had to go up with my city as a welcome back. A lot of bullshit been happening lately… a pussy nigga tried to take out my muthafuckin’ brother.”

The crowd boos as Set wraps his arm around Shad’s neck.

“Right? Muthafucka who grew up with ‘em, tried to break bread with ‘em, wanted to be ‘em, tried to take him out on some sneaky shit. Like he don’t know this muthafuckin’ Foe Dub, and a warrior never dies, especially not at the hands of a coward.”

Shaddy grins, looking like the devil himself. Dal and I exchange glances, before turning back toward the stage. The guys back off the stage, and I catch Set throwing a worried glance at Shad’s back.

“I know you watching bitch. And just know, this shit only ends one way.”

The bass to his latest singl.

“Sawed Off”

drops and the crowd is on top of their seats. He dropped it right before BirchFest, and it was on the charts for weeks. He collapsed on stage before he could perform it, so technically this is his first time. And I really wish I wasn’t terrified to really enjoy it.

The song itself is aggressive, telling three different tales of the narrator shooting someone in the face with their sawed off shotgun. It’s woven beautifully, and really you only get that much from dissecting lyrics. But you don’t get any discernible facts about the victims or where these crimes happen, so it comes off as metaphors.

Now, I’m not so sure.

The guys file back in with Shad’s security and tell us to gather our stuff so we can leave before the crowd. It’s quiet in the sprinter as we pull away from The Atrium toward Paradise.

“Okay, I’ma say it,”

Patience blurts.

“That felt like he was threatening someone. Was Shad threatening someone?”

Autumn and Turk glance at each other before she pulls Pay closer to her.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, bae.”

“Maaaan, let’s just shot up. Shad is back, the concert was live as hell, and we finna drop a bag on some big booty bitches.”

Ty grabs two bottles of brown and one of white and starts passing them and some cups around.

“Who you got in our section?”

Autumn asks Turk.

“They gone have Cinnamon and Leila to start. Me and Pay got you up in the office for a private show.”

He pulls her by the chin for a sloppy kiss, before Pay joins them in some sort of freaky three-way tongue down.

“Y’all some horny muthafuckas, boy. Lean back, Choc. We can’t let them outfreak us.”

I snicker as the Hennessy bottle makes its way to me and Reem. YT swoops in and sits on the aisle seat and folds her arms at us.

“This beef stops now,”

she proclaims loudly.

“Either you talk to me or Prince blows up the fucking sprinter. Your move, Deezy.”

She points her stiletto nail at me as YP and YC stand from the back.

“Bro–”

“The fuck–”

“Is she serious–”

I stand and glare at my godsiblings.

“You do know you don’t have to listen to her.”

YP shrugs and grins. YC just folds his arms, making those pecs bulge.

“Talk it out or I’m ripping out your tongue and you won't be able to talk at all.”

“This nigga,”

Set mumbles, bucking his eyes at Brina, who dry heaves.

I roll my eyes and glare at YT.

“Fine. We’re back cool.”

“And apologize for calling me that fucking name,”

she whines, frowning hard.

I grit my teeth.

“I’m. Sorry.”

Her frown breaks into a smile as her brothers sit back down.

“I accept your apology, Deezy. You know I hate being mad at you. Don’t drink the Hennessy; I spit in it.”

She glances at Reem, who spits his shot back into his cup. Seemingly satisfied, she stands and goes back to her seat, as Ty hands us a bottle she hasn’t touched.

“Ima kill her ass, on my brother I am,”

Reem mumbles.

True to their word, Autumn, Pay, and Turk disappeared to his office as soon as we made it to our section. Whatever, more wings for me.

Strip club wings, man. They don’t ever have to be this good!

Barbecue, spicy Korean, lemon pepper wet.

I’m sequestered in the corner, watching my friends have fun and throw money on beautiful half naked girls with fire bodies. Even YP has his earplugs in, mesmerized by the waves and ripples of a homegrown ass bouncing in front of him.

It’s nice seeing him and YT have regular fun, that’s not torturing someone or lighting some shit on fire. Lord knows they deserve it, and the world needs a fucking break.

Shaddy and his entourage join us finally, which makes more girls flock, and more money is thrown.

Nigga got one hand holding his pants up like he ain’t got a Burberry belt on. His other arm is swung over Sahara, holding a champagne bottle. Shirt still off, chest glistening, showing off that diamond patch of hair in between his pecs.

I hate how just objectively sexy my baby daddy is.

They settle onto the couches opposite of me, with Sahara’s friend on Shaddy’s other side. But Sahara is none the wiser, taking her phone out and filming herself all on Shad while he pours his champagne down her throat.

Loud ass weed envelopes my senses and before I know it YC’s big ass head is laying on my lap in the middle of the booty club. I glance down at him, watching him take a wing from my platter before focusing on Shaddy.

Who is staring right at us, jaw clenching. I arch my brow because he can’t be serious. He can’t possibly feel a way when there’s two bitches on him.

Without taking his eyes off me, he leans over and whispers something in Sahara’s ear. Then he lifts the bottle and begins pouring even more champagne into her mouth.

Something’s making my butt vibrate, and YC digs in my back pocket like a weirdo to hand me my phone.

“Why are you all over me and not enjoying yourself?”

I ask as I ignore Brandon’s call.

“I’m only here to watch over y’all. And eat these wings.”

He sits up and takes my whole platter from the end table by me and really starts digging in. When I reach for them, he turns his back to me, growling like a pit bull.

My phone starts up again, and I roll my eyes. I told this nigga about blowing my line down when I don’t answer. Especially because he was invited, but that big ego of his made him write a check he doesn’t wanna cash.

Being a nigga’s first bad bitch is exhausting.

“I’ll be back,”

I grumble, before standing up and ambling toward a hallway. At the end, there’s stairs going both up and down. Self-preservation has me going upstairs, telling myself an attic is better than a dungeon.

The hall is dark, with lightbulbs hanging above different doors. The first two are red, signalling they’re taken. But the lightbulb above the third door isn’t lit, so I open that door, just as my phone stops vibrating.

I close the door behind me and take in the room. There’s a pole in the middle of the room, with a booth seat surrounding it on the wall farthest from me. There’s clouds that glow on the wall, bathed in blacklight that turned on automatically when I opened the door to come inside.

I sigh and take a seat on the edge of the booth. I don’t know how I thought I would act when Shaddy would eventually turn up, but this, ducking and dodging him; it’s not me. I should be cursing him out. I should be shooting out his knee cap.

I should be making him promise not to leave us again.

“Tighten the fuck up, Mace,”

I berate myself aloud, planting my face in my hands.

The soft creak of the door has me lifting my head, and when hennessy eyes meet mine, my breath hitches.

Shaddy comes in all the way, closing the door and locking it behind him.

We stare at each other for I don’t know how long. Enough for the muted R this the same nigga that was shaving me. He inhales deeply again as he pulls one of my legs onto his shoulder.

A soft, warm kiss to my clit makes me shiver.

Him pulling my other leg on his other shoulder makes me lean onto the door.

His hands dig into my ass as his tongue swirls over and over my clit, spelling out something and making my eyes cross.

“Oh, Rahshad,”

I sigh. My eyes flutter closed as he gets to work.

But they snap all the way open when suddenly I’m pushed up the door until my head nearly touches the ceiling.

Did this nigga just pick me up?!

He’s gotta be holding my ass up, because in his haste I’m not even on the door anymore. I’m suspended in the air, by the pussy basically.

And he’s still munching.

When he backs up more into the room, I stretch my arms up until my palms are flat on the ceiling.

That’s when he decides to stiffen his tongue and start swirling in my hole, bringing me close at the speed of light.

And he must know it, too, because my hands leave the ceiling as he lowers me down his body. My right leg hooks around his left arm while my left toes barely touch the ground.

I ain’t flexible enough for this!

Lust, determination, and something close to adoration mix as his fingers prod my entrance.

“You taste just like I knew you would, and I’ll never get tired of watching you as I make you come.”

He crashes his lips to mine, letting me taste my essence as two of his thick fingers enter me to the last knuckle.

When his thumb circles my clit with the right amount of pressure, I come on a moan. He doesn't swallow it though, no. This nigga ends the kiss and leans back, staring at me with hooded eyes as he finger fucks me through my release.

Just like those damn massages. But this is more. So much more.

When I come down, he kisses me one more time, tongues dancing before he pulls back all the way, taking his fingers with him.

One by one he licks his fingers clean, eyes never leaving mine.

And for once, I’m speechless.

This nigga still lives at Nut and Dal’s, just like me and Sadé. How are we supposed to go on living like he ain’t eat my pussy and take a piece of my soul? Because even if I’m confused, my pussy isn’t; she’s planning a fight with that one eyed monster thick and hard down his pant leg right neow.

“You know who I am now, Mace?”

this fool has the nerve to ask.

Yeah. The devil.

He smirks, and waltzes out the room, taking my good sense with him.

It takes me fifteen full minutes to gather myself enough to go to the restroom and clean myself up. When I finally make it back to the section, it’s mostly cleared out, including Shad.

YC has another order of wings and stands when he sees me.

“C’mon, Ima take you home.”

“Okay. Where did Shaddy go?”

YC licks his lips.

“That nigga left with that hard booty bitch.”

A laugh escapes me before I can think.

Because this nigga think he doing something, leaving with a whole other bitch like his breath don’t smell like my pussy.

Like I’m supposed to cry about it? Or worse, chase him?

He don’t know who the fuck Desirae Davenport is.

But he’s finna find out fast.