Thug Lovin' (11 page)

“Yo, you trust him like that?”

“Hell naw! But I got a feeling that we may need to use him for something. What? I don’t know. Plus, he owes me. I saved the
nigga’s ass. Now I can’t get rid of him. He said I remind him of his little brother. I haven’t been able to find out why he
playin’ me close, but I will.”

It was Saturday night at Club New York. Trae and Tasha stepped into their club ready to get their party on. Security escorted
them through the crowd as they headed for the VIP section as Raheem DeVaughn’s praise for the “Woman” blazed through the speakers.
All the ladies’ hands began to wave high up in the air and they all headed for the dance floor, including Tasha.

Trae grabbed a seat, popped a bottle and fired up a blunt. He leaned back in his chair as he watched Tasha sway her hips to
the beat. He got off on watching her dance. He never saw anyone command the beat with the movements of her body the way she
did. After she danced straight through four songs, he waved her over. She sat down on his lap and felt his hard-on. She smiled
and kissed him gently on the lips before taking a sip of what was in his glass.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Trae suggested.

“Baby, we just got here. I came to party.”

“We can party upstairs.”

“Nigga, that’s what you said last week. Un-uh, nigga, come on.” She stood up. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand. “Come dance
with me.” She dragged him out of the VIP section onto the main dance floor. The DJ was obviously trying to prove himself because
he was murdering a remix of 50 Cent’s “I Get Money.” It even had an actual live verse by the old-school rapper Milk himself.

Marvin and Stephon were looking down from the balcony at the dance crowd like proud partners and business owners.

“Man, look at Trae and Tasha. We might as well get them Friday-night passes,” Stephon joked.

“Yeah. My man is already making the most of his investment.” Marvin began nodding his head and did a full spin to Gerald Levert
begging the DJ not to play a slow jam.

Tasha was all over Trae’s dick. When she turned around he grabbed onto her hips and began walking her off the dance floor
toward the elevator.

“Trae, hold up.”

“Don’t even try it. You feel what you’ve done.”

“Excuse me. Mr. Macklin, can I have a moment with you?” Charli said, appearing out of nowhere.

Trae and Tasha both stood in place. Tasha looked the small woman up and down. This was the first time she had been up close
on her. She reminded her of a petite Kimora Simmons.

“Charli, this is my wife, Tasha. Tasha, this is Charli.” Neither one of the women said anything. Trae kissed Tasha on the
cheek. “Charli, what’s up?”

“I have a proposal that I think may interest you.”

“Make sure you give it to Benny.”

Tasha pressed the elevator button, letting Charli know that the conversation was over. She turned around and tongue-kissed
him for emphasis.

Charli frowned and said, “I came here to talk to you because I’ve been unable to reach him. Can you go get us a drink?” she
asked Tasha.

“Ohhh shit,” Trae mumbled and held Tasha tighter.

This bitch
. Tasha snapped, “
Do
I look like the help to you?”

“Charli, I’ll call your office tomorrow,” Trae butted in.

“Don’t call. Come by.” She placed her hand on Trae’s bicep and smiled at Tasha.

Before Tasha could snatch Charli up, Trae grabbed the back of Tasha’s neck with force. “Ignore this shit so we can get on
with our party.”

“Nigga, I will fuck you and that bitch up,” Tasha spat. Her eyes moved to Charli, who had walked away. She started going after
her. Trae caught her just in time.

“Tasha, fuck her,” Trae barked. “We are getting ready to enjoy our evening and don’t make me tell you again.” He pushed her
toward the elevator. She knew he was not playing with her. “Chill out, aiight.” He waited until she got herself together.

As soon as they stepped onto the private elevator and the doors closed, they were all over each other. When the doors opened
up, Tasha’s panties were off and stuffed into Trae’s back pocket. He put in the code to their private room and the door popped
open. The smell of vanilla potpourri assaulted their nostrils. Tasha had made sure of that. Their feet sank into the six-inch
plush carpet as Trae kicked the door shut behind them and hit a switch. The lights automatically dimmed and their music came
on.

Tasha headed for the bathroom to freshen up. When she came out she had on a sheer silver sarong, silver star pasties that
covered her nipples, a matching silver thong and a pair of clear six-inch stilettos. Her diamond belly ring reflected the
dim lights. Trae was leaned back in his chair at the foot of the stage. He motioned for her to come to where he was. She kept
going toward the stage.

“I can’t get a lap dance tonight?”

She ignored him and began winding around the pole. Slim 112’s new joint bumped from the speakers. Trae stood there mesmerized
throughout the entire song. He finally grabbed his chair and pulled it close to the stage. He pulled out a stack of bills
and sat down. She seductively untied the sarong, allowing it to fall to the floor, then turned around giving him a nice ass
shot. “Make that ass clap for Daddy. Shit, I’m a paying customer.” He tossed a couple of hundreds onto the platform. She closed
her eyes, feeling the music. It drove him crazy when she ignored him and danced as if she were the only one in the room. Her
fingers ran over her pussy, thighs, abs and tits before tossing the sarong onto the floor, revealing the sexiest body Trae
had ever seen, glistening with glitter.

Now Trae was standing up, ready to put the bills into her G-string.

She bent over slowly, giving him an ass and pussy shot. As Trae slipped a few bills into her G-string he grabbed an ass cheek
and planted a big fat juicy kiss on it. Tasha stood straight up and made it clap and jiggle. She then turned around, putting
her back to the pole, sliding down, squatting and opening her legs. Trae couldn’t take any more. He crawled onto the platform
and had his face in between her thighs. In a flash he had moved that G-string to the side and was tasting her pussy.

As she slid slowly back up the pole, his face stayed glued to the inside of her thighs, until she eased his head away.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as he sat down in his chair. She seductively stepped down off her throne and stood in
front of him. He ran his hand up and down her thigh. His eyes glistened as she began to sway to R. Kelly and Public Announcement
begging for that “Honey Love.”

She began grinding on his dick with the intention of giving him a lap dance that he wouldn’t be able to forget. It was obvious
that she was getting that result because he had gripped her thighs and was dry fucking her wet pussy.

Realizing that he was about to nut, he lifted her up and led her to the glass wall. The club was jumping. She placed both
hands on the cool glass wall, bent over and spread her legs. When she looked back his dick was in his hand and he was ready
to put in work.

“C’mon, Daddy. Make this pussy talk to you,” Tasha purred as he slid it inside of her, not stopping until her warmth sucked
him all the way in.

As he stroked they both felt exhilarated as they looked down onto the crowd that couldn’t see them. The lights, the people,
the height… got the both of them off.

“Shit,” Trae grunted as he pulled back, not wanting to come this soon. But Tasha reached back and grabbed his ass, pulling
him back in. She threw her pussy back at him.

“Make it talk,” she screamed as he came a few seconds before her.

“Why’d you do that?” he panted. “I wasn’t ready to bust yet!”

She giggled and was out of breath. “But I wanted you to.”

“Well, you just blew a chance to get your back blown out.”

“Nigga, you better bring my dick back to life,” she threatened. “Remember, this is my night.”

“Then let me run the show,” he complained.

“Trae… Never mind. I’m not going to argue. Why don’t you give
me
a lap dance now?”

“Naw, you give me another one.”

“It’s my night, Trae.”

They argued and fucked for the rest of the night.

Tasha went home with a smile plastered on her face.

M
arvin promised Kyra he’d take her to UCLA to see what credits were transferred and which ones weren’t, but she would have
to ride with him and Trae to take care of some business in the area. He pulled up in front of the university entrance and
let Kyra out. She had some loose ends to tie up before the next semester started.

“I’ll be right back.” She jumped out of the backseat and slammed the door.

Trae was in the front seat admiring the architecture and landscaping surrounding the university campus. “You ever think about
going to college?” he asked Marvin.

“Hell to the naw. I’m retired. What I look like starting a new career? Why? Are you thinking about going back?”

Trae pondered the thought for a minute. “Nah, it’s just that being here gives you that feeling.”

“Nigga, if you want to go back then by all means go back. What’s stopping you? Other than a houseful of kids. Man, is you
trying to get Tasha pregnant again? What you wanna do, start your own country?”

“Nah man, she ain’t trying to get pregnant. Lately she’s been hinting about getting her physical therapy practice off the
ground. I’m lucky to get the three in that I got.” Then his eyes went over to a young lady who looked like Tasha. She was
standing at a table trying to sell what looked to be pictures. She then pushed a young man down into a chair, picked up a
huge tablet and began drawing him. “I’ll be right back, man.”

When Trae made it to the young lady’s table he was in for a surprise. Not only could she have passed for Tasha’s younger sister,
but her art skills were exceptional. Then, on closer inspection of her features, he was in for the shock of his life.

“Do I know you?” The artist stopped sketching the small guy who was seated in her chair. He looked Trae over and got up.

“I changed my mind,” the customer snapped.

“Wait a minute! You can’t do that. I’m almost done with your sketch.”

“Then you should have finished!” The customer snatched up his backpack and stormed off.

“I hate broke-ass college niggas,” the artist yelled at him.

“You were wrong for stopping. I know I look good, but you weren’t supposed to allow my good looks to distract you. As you
just witnessed it’s not good for business,” Trae told her.

“I know that, but it wasn’t your good looks, you look familiar. Where are you from?” she asked.

“Where are you from?” he shot back.

She cocked her head to the side as she studied him some more. “I know that I know you.”

“Yeah, they say we all got a twin. How long have you been drawing?”

“It feels like all my life and the life before this one,” she laughed.

“You got nice skills and I’m impressed.” Trae was checking out the sketches she had displayed across the table. “Do you do
murals?” He turned to face her.

“I haven’t, but I can. I can work on anything.”

“Give me your card. I’ma throw some business your way.”

“How soon?” She handed him a business card.

He looked it over.
DESIGNS BY SABEERAH
. “Real soon, shorty. Real soon.” He headed back to Marvin’s truck.

As soon as he got seated he dialed Bo.

“Who the fuck is this calling me so early?” Bo growled into the phone after finally answering it.

“Early? It’s almost noon, doughboy.”

“Trae, what’s up, nigga? Fool, have you forgot, you three hours ahead of us?”

“Three hours behind you, nigga, and that means it’s almost three o’clock in the fuckin’ afternoon, East Coast time.”

That caused Bo to burst out laughing. “What’s up, my nigga?”

“Yo, your mans and that videotape. You took care of that, right?”

Bo was quiet for a couple of minutes as he figured out what Trae was talking about. “Nigga, I been told you that. What the
fuck is wrong with you? Here you go, with yo scary ass! That shit happened damn near three years ago.”

“Man, I just saw shorty.”

“Who the fuck is shorty?” It took a minute before it dawned on Bo whom Trae was talking about. “Dawg, you seeing things, you
know they say we all look alike.”

“Bo, this is me you talkin’ to. Trust me, I know who I saw. And I rarely forget a face. Just check with her peoples to see
if she’s going to UCLA, and named Sabeerah. Hit me back.” Trae hung up and looked over at a baffled Marvin.

“What’s up, man?” Marvin asked.

Just then Kyra jumped into the backseat. “Baby, I am so mad I could scream.” Marvin turned around and looked back at her.
“What’s the matter?”

“These are some racist muthafuckas. That’s what’s the matter. They are trying to make me take four of my classes over! This
is bullshit!” she snapped.

“Did you talk to who was in charge?”

“Yes,” she pouted.

“Did you talk to his boss?” Marvin continued.

“Yes.”

“Did you talk to his boss?”

“It was a her and no. She’s not in.”

“Well, do that before you give up. My baby is a fighter and we don’t take no for an answer.”

She ran her hands over her face. “I will die if I have to take these classes over.”

“It ain’t over yet. We are going to talk to her boss and then if that don’t work, we’ll just transfer to a college that will
take all of your credits. This ain’t the only college in town. Right?”

“Baby, you know this is where I had my heart set on going.”

“You want me and my little friend to go and make them an offer they can’t refuse?” Trae asked her, mimicking Al Pacino’s character
from the movie
Scarface
.

“No, Trae, but thanks. We have to do this right. We didn’t relocate out here to catch a case. We are starting clean, remember?”

“Oh, I forgot,” Trae teased. “Sorry about that.”

“Sure you are. You know you meant it.”