Thug Lovin' (8 page)

“No, I’m good.”

She took a seat behind her huge mahogony and glass Donald Trump–style desk. It was accented with diamond corners. “The cable
company that you want to sell is already done. We have four investors that are clamoring all over it. But what did Stephon
tell you about the land deal that we are inviting you to invest in? That makes the cable company chump change.”

Trae got comfortable in his seat. “I didn’t want to hear third-party information. I told him I needed to hear everything from
you. And for starters, why should I get involved with this venture? Y’all talking sixteen million? That’s a lot of dough.”

“Look at it like this. You’re getting thirteen from the sale of the cable company. You only need three million more.” The
“three million” rolled off her toungue as if she had said “three hundred.” “You’ve got funds that you need to clean up and
this is the fastest and best way to do it all at one time.”

“Who told you that?” Trae got defensive. “And if I don’t like what you tell me, I’m outta here.”

She liked his style and had to hold back a smile. “Mr. Macklin, just as you had us checked out, we did the same on our end.
And it just so happens that this project requires this type of funding and that’s one of our specialties, matching buyers
and sellers.”

She felt that she had said what he needed to hear and that he would not get up without sealing the deal. She had to admit
that she was impressed. To date she had never met a black man like Trae. One who had some brains and some balls. It was always
one or the other. She kept him talking and ended up rescheduling her next appointment. She could see that he was bullheaded,
driven and focused just as much as her father. When he finished talking she came from behind her desk and began pacing the
floor.

“Glad to see you thought this out, Mr. Macklin.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Come on now. I’m not your average joe from off the streets. I’m sure Stephon told you that. So choose your
words carefully.”

“I apologize if I offended you. I’m not used to dealing with black men with balls and money.” She smirked.

She grabbed a file off the table and handed it to him. She watched him as he flipped through its contents.

Finally he said, “I have a meeting with my attorney next week. His name is Benny Brown. I have no idea what his schedule is.
So is it okay if he sets up an appointment with you?”

“Sure. Have him call my assistant, Jill. Here’s my card. Let me grab Club New York’s files and I’ll meet you back in the conference
room.”

Trae stood up and she watched this hell of a black man swagger out of her office.

E
ven though it was a weeknight, Stephon and Marvin came by Trae’s house. They called him and told him to be ready. They wanted
to go by Club New York to check on the construction crew.

“Ready to get to work?” Marvin asked, and winked at Trae.

“I’m always ready to work,” Trae said.

Tasha shot him a look that said, “Nigga, I know you don’t think you going out tonight!” And she caught Marvin’s wink.

Stephon read her expression. “Y’all married niggas got too many restrictions for me. Can’t go there, can’t say this, and can’t
say that! Y’all can’t do shit.”

“Nigga, I’m the king of my castle. Tasha knows what it is. You see, she only
looked
all crazy but ain’t say shit. Give me a minute,” Trae told him.

Tasha rolled her eyes at Trae and left them in the living room. In the blink of an eye Trae went upstairs, changed clothes
and was out the door with Marvin and Stephon. They jumped into Stephon’s burgundy Escalade and were headed out of the driveway.

“Ain’t that some shit,” Tasha snapped. “Nigga ain’t been home for an hour and already he’s gone,” she said to Marva.

“Chile, please. You know what kind of man you got. And if you don’t get it out of your mind that Trae is going to settle down
as if he has a nine to five and is no longer in the streets, you are going to be in for a rude awakening,” Marva told her.
“All the business in the world won’t satisfy his craving for the streets. It’s in his blood. He is his father’s son. A born
street nigga.” Marva didn’t give Tasha time to respond. She got up and left out of the family room.

“Yo, where we going? This ain’t the way to our club,” Trae yelled over the Styles P lyrics Stephon was blasting.

“I know. We got something special planned for you.” Stephon flashed him a devilish grin.

Trae looked over at Marvin, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Nigga, don’t act like you ignorant,” Trae told him.

“Trae, for once, I want you to just chill out and go with the flow. Can you do that for me, man? You ain’t kicked it with
the fellas in a minute. What’s up with that?” Marvin tried to ask with a straight face.

Trae smiled. “Chill out? What the fuck you think I’ve been doing? You know. I’ve been doing the family thing.”

“We know. That’s why we hookin’ you up, dawg,” Marvin said. “Shit, you got the keys to the club; you can see that anytime.”

Trae sat back, cracked his window and marveled at the Los Angeles sky. Marvin passed him a blunt as Stephon navigated through
traffic while talking on his cell. About forty minutes later they pulled up into a club called Spinners that was in the cut.

“Trae, tonight is your night. Anything you want is on the house. This is my treat.” Stephon threw the Escalade in park and
jumped out with Marvin right on his heels.

“This is what y’all niggas be doing when I’m not around? Hanging at seedy-ass strip clubs?” Trae shook his head in mock disappointment.

“Man, don’t hate. But at the same time don’t let the raggedy outside fool you. Now get yo’ doing-the-family-thing ass out
of the car,” Stephon barked.

“Steph, don’t let this nigga spin you. He’s only puttin’ on an act. Just in case you wanna run back and tell Tasha on him.
This nigga is down for whatever.” Marvin put Trae on blast. The three of them walked up the rickety stairs.

“Damn. Y’all couldn’t take me to a better place than this?” Trae cracked.

“Nigga, I asked yo ass to chill out,” Marvin said as he knocked on the door.

A small Cuban man opened the door, looked at the three of them and moved to the side. Stephon placed a few bills in his hand
and kept walking to another set of winding stairs that were carpeted and led them to a steel door. Stephon pressed the buzzer
three times and the steel popped open.

A half smile appeared on Trae’s face as they stepped into the colorful club and he saw so many beautiful women. There were
dark ones, light ones, Asian ones, Indian ones, Latina women, white women.

“Damn, y’all. I take back what I said about y’all niggas earlier,” Trae apologized.

“We not tryna hear that shit,” Marvin bellowed as he led Trae over to their VIP booth and took a seat.

Stephon waved the waitress over, placed their drink order and then sat down. “I told you, boy. I got you,” he yelled over
the music to Trae, who was checking out his surroundings. The club was crowded but not packed. Trae noticed that cats of all
calibers were in attendance. There were thugs, ballers, business suits, nerds, geeks, even women who were trying their damnedest
to look like men.

Sitting back in the booth Trae surveyed the club. One cat caught his eye. Actually it was the dancer who was doing tricks
with her ass that caught him off guard and caused him to look in that direction. He looked the dread head right in his face.
“That’s the nigga that pulled me over the other day.”

However, the dread head looked more like a baller than a cop this evening. He had about six honeys in his booth and one on
his lap, a sexy bootylicious sister. He was poppin’ bottles and was flossing as if he was on big willie status. It reminded
Trae of how he used to do it. Dude with the locks must have felt Trae looking at him because he turned around and caught his
gaze. Trae nodded in approval and turned his attention to the honey who had sat on his lap and was working on getting his
dick on swole. Marvin had disappeared and Stephon had two, a sister and a snow bunny on his lap.

“Yo, why you get two and I only get one, Steph?” Trae wanted to know.

“I’m taking it easy on you,” Stephon joked. “You gotta work your way up.”

“I’m enough for you, big daddy,” the honey in his lap purred.

“You think so?” Trae asked, twisting his face and thinking to himself,
Yeah right.

A waitress came over with a bottle of Ace of Spades on ice. “Compliments from King Dread over there.” Trae looked over at
the detective and he was holding up a glass as if to give Trae a toast. Trae held up his empty glass and toasted him back.

“Who is that cat?” he asked the chick on his lap.

“Oh, that’s King,” she replied.

“King of what?” Trae asked.

“Let him tell it, he says LA.”

King made his way to the bathroom. As soon as he walked in there, he noticed Marvin standing at the sink nodding. It surprised
him. Recognizing the nod he had seen on so many junkies, King looked at him in total disgust. He didn’t know Marvin was getting
high. Rockin’ this nigga’s world was going to be easier than he thought. “Weak niggas use drugs,” he said, hearing his father’s
words ring in his head.
And when you are weak you get used up.
And King was already trying to figure out how he could use this weak-ass nigga up. After all, he was the king and LA was
his.

Marvin looked up at him as if he had heard his thoughts and shot him a look that said, “Yeah, try me if you want to, nigga.”
As he watched King walk out, he checked himself in the mirror and he said to himself,
Damn that could have easily been Trae or Steph who walked in here on me. This shit is fire, I’ma make a killin’.
He floated out and rejoined the fellas at the table.

The young lady on Trae’s lap whispered in his ear. Trae grinned as he said, “My wife will do that. Shorty, you gotta come
with something a little more creative than that.”

Marvin and Stephon both started laughing.

“All right then.” The stripper got up. “That sounds like a challenge to me.” She smiled at him. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be
right back.”

“Awww shit,” Stephon said, instigating, and started laughing. “She said she’ll be coming back.”

“Sheeit, I’ll be ready for her. But yo, why ain’t nobody smokin’ up in here? Fire it up,” Trae said.

“That’s the only thing you can’t do in here,” Stephon said, almost apologizing. “You gotta go out front or out back. Drink
up, nigga. Give your lungs a rest.”

“That nigga ain’t no drinker. He a smoker,” Marvin said as he passed Trae a blunt.

Trae took it from him and said, “Come on.”

“I’m good,” Marvin said. The heroin he had just snorted had him on easy street.

Trae stood up and looked around for the honey who had been on his lap. “I’ll be right back.” He took his time making his way
to the front door as he admired all the luscious eye candy all around him. When he got out front, a group of smokers were
just finishing up and coming back inside. Trae looked around, lit up and started walking.

“Yo, money.”

Trae turned around and saw King, so he stopped and waited.

“Let’s keep walking,” King told him as he lit up his own blunt. “This is my first time seeing you up in here.” He took a slow
pull and admired the blunt. “So, we meet again.” King Dread smirked. “I’m Detective Rick Bryant by day and King Dread by night.”

“King, huh? King of what?” Trae was anxious to know. “And good lookin’ on the bottle.”

King smiled. “King of whatever I choose. You remind me of someone. And just like him, always curious and he was never a hater.”

“That nigga
must
be a boss. And you couldn’t put the word hate in the same sentence with me. I’m Trae and I don’t have to hate. I gets mine.”

“See, now that’s what I’m talking about. It looked like you used to roll like that.”

“Used to?”

“Yeah, what happened? You got married?”

“Damn, it’s that obvious?” Trae grinned.

“Only to a nigga of my caliber. But check it. It ain’t no thing. I got hitched too. I married a rich bitch. She already had
a house, money, everything. But that ain’t stop nothin’.” They both started laughing. “You from the East Coast?”

Trae nodded as a pickup truck turned the corner on two wheels, jumping the curb, damn near running them over. Two crazy-looking
cats jumped out with guns, aiming and yelling at King and Trae.

“What the fuck?” Trae mumbled, surprised that he was getting jacked. “Whoa, niggas. Y’all don’t know me and I don’t know y’all.”
He reached for his burner, and then held up, realizing that if the fools had intended to shoot they would have done so by
now.

“Then get the fuck on,” the albino cat said. “Go ahead and kick rocks, black nigga, while you got the chance!” he screamed
at Trae.

Trae picked up his pace and began walking off. But the two dudes were stripping King of all his bling, emptying his pockets,
even taking his car keys, and were beating his ass viciously.

Trae glanced back at them and stopped. Then he started back walking.
Mind your business, nigga
, was his first thought.
Naw, fuck that! You know you like to get down and dirty. Karma, muthafucka. What if that was you back there getting your ass
whupped?
was his next train of thought.
Plus
,
you ain’t had no action in a long time, chillin’ all up in the house like some punk-ass bitch.

Unable to resist, Trae turned around, Glock .40 in hand, and started walking real fast toward them. When the albino cat looked
up, Trae blasted. POW! POW! Catching the albino cat in the chest, sending him flying backwards. Trae smirked.

Seizing the opportunity, King was then able to grab his piece and put several rounds in the head of the other cat. “Pussy
muthafucka,” he spat before lying back, groaning in pain and coughing.

Trae stood over King and cocked his burner. King raised his up at the same time.

“What? We gonna kill each other now?” King asked through a bloody grin.