Dirty DNA 2: 'Til Death Do Us Part (G Street Chronicles Presents) Read online

  “Man, you ain’t got no swag!” Shadow said obviously feeling his liquor.

  “Imma go to the big boy’s room and imma show you what swag is. Just because you got them ole’ pretty boy eyes don’t mean shit.” Shadow said as he stood to go handle his business. I laughed at him and watched as he disappeared in the crowd, smacking women on the ass along the way.

  The waitress made her way back to the table and I ordered another round and some buffalo wings to feed the liquor. I couldn’t help notice her tight short shorts and tight tank top. Her nipples were as hard as glass from the late spring breeze.

  “You like what you see?” she said while she was gathering up the empty glasses.

  “I might.” I said eyeing her plump ass.

  “Good, because if the price is right you can see more!” she said licking her glossed lips in a suggestive way.

  “I’m a big tipper.” I challenged her.

  “Good. I like my tips big. I get off in about forty-five minutes. Meet me in the front of the club.” she said as she finished gathering up the rest of our empty glasses and headed to the bar to put in the order for the wings and drinks. I watched her back field in motion and couldn’t help but stare. My concentration was broken when I noticed Shadow making his way back to the table with a vexed look on his face.

  “What happened, you took a shit and they ran out of paper?” I said fucking with him.

  “Naw. I saw that little shorty from your shop, NiQue. I tried to holler at her and she looked at me like she ain’t know who I was. I even called her by her name and she told me I had the wrong person. Baby girl looked confused as hell.” he said taking a seat.

  “Maybe she didn’t care about who you were!” I said laughing at him.

  “I called her by her name and she said that wasn’t her name.” Shadow said looking confused.

  “Maybe it wasn’t her.”

  “She was wearing the same shit from when she visited the shop. Maybe she is drunk or something. I could never forget an ass like that.” he said laughing and dismissing my comment.

  The waitress came back to the table with the drinks, breaking up the conversation. Shadow turned his attention to her and forgot all about his supposed encounter with NiQue. We sat out on the deck until I saw shorty motion towards her wrist letting me know it was time for her to get off.

  I told Shadow I would catch up with him later, and then made my way to the front of the club just in time to see a Mercedes SLS AMG, the exact same color as NiQue’s, pulling out of the parking lot. I knew it had to be her because there weren’t too many folks pushing that kind of car, especially not in that color. That color was custom and I am sure the odds of another person having it was next to none.

  Ms. Waitress walked up on me and I forgot all about the car and NiQue. Thoughts of fucking Ms. Waitress on the top floor of some swanky ass hotel while she put um’ on the glass entered my mind.

  “You ready to spend?” she said seductively.

  “Yeah, a nigga got some extra ends.” I said as we walked to the car, arm in arm, like we were old lovers.

  Chapter Six

  Pure Elegance

  “One Leg Up”

  Dread

  I don’t know where NiQue slipped off to. She had been pulling disappearing acts a lot lately and I was getting sick of it! She knew I had a show, and yet she darted off and I hadn’t seen her for hours. I had just laid the baby down for the night. I hated to leave YaSheema here with the nanny again, but I didn’t really have a choice. I could not miss my show.

  Funny thing is, Joseah, the nanny, and I were talking earlier and she let me know that NiQue had been pulling the same shit with her too. NiQue would claim to be running to the store and get ghost for hours. Not to mention, when she would come back she would be “different.” I tried to get Joseah to elaborate on what she meant by, “different” but she wouldn’t though. She just told me, in her Spanish accent, that she didn’t want any trouble, but that I had better watch my back because NiQue couldn’t be trusted and may have been sneaky.

  I kissed the baby on her forehead and pulled her door shut behind me; careful not to disturb her. I only had about thirty minutes to get myself ready and head out so I wouldn’t be late. I wanted to talk to NiQue before I left because I would be flying out in the morning to a gig in Atlanta. I was supposed to be performing at this year’s A3C festival as one of the DMV’s hottest up and coming performers. Once again, NiQue was gone, and I doubted if I would see her before I left in the morning.

  Crack had booked me for a performance for some bitch’s birthday party at the Stadium Club. These days I was charging ten thousand a show, and to keep up with NiQue’s spending habits, I would most likely have to up my fee again. She was blowing through money like it was water.

  I hurried myself to the master bedroom and showered. I pulled out a fresh pair of white linen pants and a pink Hugo Boss polo. The broad I was performing for requested everyone be in those specific colors or else I would not be wearing anything pink. If she wasn’t paying I wouldn’t be caught dead in a pink shirt. I splashed on some Hugo Boss cologne, dressed, and hurried to find Joseah. I let her know that I was leaving and that I would be leaving again in the morning. I could tell she wasn’t happy about both me and NiQue always being on the go, but there was nothing I could do about it. I quickly wrote her a check for a thousand dollars which was two hundred more than I normally paid her per week. She took the check from my hands and went about her business making bottles and washing the baby’s clothes. Any reservations she had about me leaving were gone with the extra ends she received.

  I felt bad being away from baby YaSheema, but I had money to make. I left the house and headed into the city to the studio to meet up with the rest of the guys before we were to head to the club. Once I got to Cap Citi Entertainment Studios I saw Crack, and a few others, standing outside waiting in front of the limos that were supposed to take us to the party.

  “Wassup Dread?” Crack said when I pulled up beside them.

  “You know, same old shit.” I said out of the window while nodding to my niggas from the Cap; Vito, Butta, Coogi, Fats and NATO.

  They all got into their respective cars and drove to the club. When we pulled up we could tell the inside was packed. There were people all over the place in pink and white, waiting to get inside. The suburban car doors that held our security staff swung open, and Big Jeff, Bilbo and our head of security, Ox; all got out and made their way to our cars to usher us inside.

  When we started making our way to the front, you could hear people screaming and chanting my name. That shit would never get old for me. All my life I wanted to make music people would feel, and now I was doing just what I had set out to do. Once we were inside, Crack, Ox, and I, made our way to the back of the club, while the rest of the fellas headed to our VIP section. I was supposed to be performing three songs and the birthday girl, who was some high-paid stripper bitch named Pinky, requested that I perform my hit song, “Make It Drop” while she performed on the stage. I didn’t care what she did, as long as she was paying.

  “I’m going to see if I can find Pinky.” Crack said. He left the dressing room, and Ox and I blazed a J of loud. I sipped on a Corona. I tried not to drink before I had a show. I liked to stay on my toes and stay professional at all times. Smoking was another situation. I did that any and every day of the week so that shit didn’t matter.

  After about ten minutes, Crack came back, followed by a brick-house chick with an ass so phat she could turn a gay nigga straight. She was dressed in a white dress that left little to the imagination. The dress barely covered her ass. You could clearly see her hot pink thong and bikini top through the thin fabric. Hot pink Red Bottoms pulled her outfit together, and she topped it all off by sporting pink dreads that were pinned up in a neat, curly Mohawk.

  “Hi, I’m Pinky. I am so glad you could make it.” she said while extending her hand to shake mine.

  “Nice to meet you baby girl. Hap
py birthday. It looks like you have one hell of a turn out.” I said referring to all of the folks inside and outside the club.

  “Yeah, I don’t do anything unless I do it big.” she said smiling.

  Her voice was like honey and she smelled just as sweet. I could feel my dick rising to attention just looking at her. I hadn’t had any pussy in over three months. NiQue was holding out on me and I was getting tired of begging her for pussy that was supposed to belong to me.

  Pinky walked further into the dressing room and proceeded to spread lines of coke on the dressing table. I watched her ass jiggle underneath the dress she struggled to keep from rising up over her creamy unblemished behind. She took a seat in front of the drug, rolled up a hundred dollar bill and snorted a line. Once she was finished, she turned to offer us some. We all declined her offer. She shrugged her shoulders and tooted the rest of the lines. Pinky sniffed a couple of times, wiped her nose and stood up.

  “I guess it’s show time.” she said and we all left the room.

  We followed her to the back entrance of the stage. She was standing so close to me I could feel her body radiating heat. The lights dimmed throughout the club and the DJ was announcing Pinky to the stage. There were two spotlights centered in the middle of the stage that illuminated a pole that I am sure had seen better days.

  “That’s your marker on the stage.” she said pointing to the place where the light shone in white.

  “The other one is mine. Wait until the beat for Make It Drop comes on and make your way to your marker and I got the rest,” she instructed. Before she made her way onto the stage, she adjusted herself in her dress again and then strutted onto the stage. The crowd began to go wild at just the sight of her.

  “I have a very special surprise for you all tonight! You all could have been anywhere else in the world, but you decided to help me celebrate my birthday. DMV are you ready?” Pinky announced into the mic she had been given by the infamous DJ Khalil when she took the stage.

  From all the extras around the joint and the free-flowing party favors being given to the people in attendance, I knew Pinky had spent upwards of about one hundred thousand dollars to put the party together. I was silently kicking myself for not charging her more for me to perform. I was more than sure she could afford it. The song, “Novacane” by Frank Ocean came blasting through the huge speakers and Pinky handed the mic back to DJ Khalil.

  Watching her in motion reminded me of a cat by the way she moved across the stage. Each step she took seemed to move to the rhythm pulsating through the speakers and to say I was captivated by her was an understatement. She turned her back to her audience and made her ass jiggle just enough for the fabric to rise on her dress, exposing the pink thong.

  The beat changed up and I heard my queue. I made my way to the stage and started to perform my song and Pinky went wild. She swung her long legs around the pole and slid down it and into a split once she hit the floor. She got up from the floor, walked over to me, and started gyrating and dancing all on me. I was mesmerized to say the least. Her movements were hypnotic, reminiscent of a mixture of that Latino chick Shakira and Beyonce all rolled into one. As I watched her body pulsate instinctively to the music, I couldn’t help but think of the effects of throwing a stone in a calm lake and watching it ripple. That’s how she moved; melodic and erotic.

  The crowd was going crazy. They were throwing money by the fistfuls onto the stage. As I watched the crowd making it rain on her, I knew how she was able to pay me without a problem. If she made money like that every night, there was no way her pockets would be anything other than stacked. What amazed me even more than the amount of money niggas and bitches were throwing on the stage at her was that fact that she hadn’t even gotten totally naked yet. She was still in her dress, but it was hiked above her waist while she was twerking her coke bottle hips.

  The song changed up again and my lyrics to, “Whatever Happens Here” ripped through the speakers. Pinky seductively came out of her dress and gave one hell of a strip tease. She unfastened the straps on her bikini top and let her bosom fall free. She pranced around the stage performing movements that forced onlookers to sit and stare. I tried to keep up with her movements and perform without letting on that I would much rather be in the audience enjoying the show than being a part of it.

  I made it through the song and there was a pause in the music. DJ Khalil was filling in the gaps as a team of guys brought out a blow up pool onto the stage. It looked like it was full of strawberry milk, but I couldn’t make out what was actually inside the baby pool. I was so entranced in everything happening around me that I almost missed Pinky giving me my props on the stage. I snapped back to reality and saw all of my boys heading to the stage. They were followed by several fine ass females that all lined up on the stage as well. I had no idea what Pinky had in store, but shit just got interesting.

  The same guys who had brought the pool out with the pink substance in it were wheeling out a cart with different flavors of ice cream toppings. There were cans of whipped cream, chocolate syrup, caramel syrup, strawberry syrup, nuts, cherries, sprinkles and something that looked like butterscotch. I found out real fast what was about to happen next. Pinky announced her next set.

  “Fuck having a birthday cake. Imma let these horny mutha fuckas turn yours truly into a human sundae!” she yelled into the mic.

  The crowd roared with excitement. The lights dimmed again. I was preparing to do my last song when Coogi snatched the mic from me and Pinky grabbed my hands. She pulled me towards the toppings on the cart.

  “I think our very special guest should do the honors.” Pinky said while she snaked her way out of her thong. She stepped into the pool and stretched out in it. Her legs were spread wide eagle; exposing her neatly-waxed pussy. She inserted two fingers inside herself before another chick joined her in the pool.

  Now I have seen a lot of shit in my travels on the road, but I have never seen any shit like that before. Vito urged me to take the chocolate syrup he was holding and be the first to use it on Pinky’s naked body. Something deep down inside of me told me to decline and get the fuck out of there; but if the bitch was going to pay me to cover her body in toppings, then so be it. I would dump whatever she wanted me to on her as long as she was paying for it.

  The music started again and Coogi’s song, “Hood Star” floated through the air. That’s when I knew the shit was all a set up. They knew I wasn’t going to be performing all of my songs that night. I fought off the angel on my shoulder telling me not to get caught up in the nonsense, but I couldn’t help it. This bitch was fine as fuck.

  I heard DJ Khalil in the background saying, “This just went from a birthday party to a bachelor party!” he laughed as he told me congrats on my upcoming wedding. I could barely make out what he was saying because I was too busy coating Pinky, and the other bitches who had accompanied the Cap Citi Boys up on the stage, with Hershey’s syrup. They were all over each other putting on a hell of a show in that little ass pool. The girls were licking the toppings off of one another. There was nothing but titties and ass and sweet sticky shit all over the place. The bitches were fingering, licking, and fucking each other with fierceness. The niggas in the audience were making it rain dead presidents all over the stage. There were bills big and small, raining down from every direction.

  When I tried to back away from the orgy in front of me, Pinky rose from the pool and asked me to follow her back to the dressing room. I was hoping she had my money so that I could get out of there before the shit happening on stage had a chance to ruin not only my soon-to-be marriage, but also my career. Scenarios like this one had a way of landing niggas in the tabloids and fucking up happy homes.

  I took one more look at the festivities on the stage and against my better judgment, I exited, stage left, with Pinky. We didn’t say one word to one another as we walked to the dressing room. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of Pinky’s stilettos clicking, forcibly, against the woode
n floor as we headed in the direction of the club that looked like it was reserved for “happy endings.”

  I was having a battle inside my head. I just wanted to get my money and get the fuck out of there before the “show” landed me in trouble. It was bad enough NiQue and I had barely said more than ten words to one another in the last three days, but there were also too many temptations lurking inside the club walls. I wanted to run from them, but I wanted to experience them as well. Once we were inside the confines of her private dressing room, Pinky grabbed a towel from the rack and headed into the bathroom. She was covered in all sorts of stuff from her performance and was going to take a shower to remove the evidence from the show.

  “Are you coming?” she seductively asked as she peeked from behind the bathroom door.

  “Coming where? I only want to get my money and then I am going to bounce. I am sure my wife is waiting on me to come home. I got to get it moving.”

  She stepped from the door that was concealing her naked body and a cloud of steam from the shower followed her.

  “I think we both know you ain’t married just yet. Even if you were married you would still do what you are about to do! It’s a man’s nature. You all are visual creatures. That’s what stimulates you.” she said while making her way over to where I was planted next to the door.

  Everything inside me said, get the fuck out of there, and fast. My mind and heart were screaming for me to leave. My dick, which was at full attention, was telling me to stay and see how warm, wet and tight her pussy was.

  Pinky took my hand and led me to a chair where she had thrown her white dress and thong. She pushed my six foot frame into the chair and began to straddle me. I knew she could tell from the bulge in my pants that I didn’t want to leave. Not without fucking her. Slowly she gyrated her body across my lap. Veins, already engorged with blood, intensified, and my hardness thickened in strength. As her body moved, Pinky took one of my hands, which was still covered in syrup, and placed the pointer and middle fingers into her mouth. Seductively and intimately she sucked clean all of the gooey, sweet syrup from my fingers.