Yo, Dee, you can’t say no! We goin’ out tonight! And you can’t say no! We need to celebrate!” screamed Nick, leaping his whale of a self on my back. It was his birthday and he had been popping Perks and drinking since I came by to drop his gift off, a stainless steel Rolex with the date—just identical to the one Hurk had bought me way back when he started hustling. Nick tore it out the pack and put it on his right arm.
“Yo, Breitling on my left and Rollie on my right, we goin’ out tonight!” he said, dancing like Puff Daddy all around the kitchen.
“You a fat clown!” Long Tooth yelled from the steps.
Everybody was over at Angie’s. She made a huge down-south type of breakfast with fried eggs, fried bacon, fried catfish, fried pancakes, and fried everything else—I think she tried to fry the orange juice.
“Yo, you don’t pop pills no more! You don’t come out no more! What’s up!” yelled Nick. His eyes were redder than strawberries. I couldn’t even see his pupils. His teeth looked rotten and fragile too. The more I hung with Soni, the less I drank, but seeing him made want to quit that too. I probably used to look like him.
“Fuck you, Nick, because you ugly, I’m gonna go out! I know you won’t get no girls if I’m not there so I’m gonna go out for you, fat boy!” I said.
Angie made me a big plate. Two bites and I wanted to toss it. I looked around and saw everyone else swallowing whole plates. Dog Boy didn’t even stop to breathe, Nick had seconds and thirds, Long Tooth flossed with a pig spine, and some of the new kids ate like they never had a plate before.
“You need a mug fuckin’ restaurant Miss Angie!” some girl yelled while tonguing a catfish tail, making sure no meat was left. That food tasted like grease with diabetes sprinkled on top. I can’t believe I used to eat that every day. Angie used to feed me and before her I ate nothing but fried crab cake dinners or cups of noodles. I would’ve probably been dead if I didn’t hoop so much.
“I feel sick, somebody want my plate?” The whole entire house leaped over me, gold teeth hit me from every direction—my food disappeared in seconds. My plate was licked clean, shined with saliva and placed back in front of me.
“You too good for my cookin’ now! You gotta cute li’l girlfriend and now y’all eat fancy!” said Miss Angie, wrapping her huge fluffy arms around me.
“Yes, Miss Angie, I am too good,” I replied with a straight face. Then she tickled me until I couldn’t hold my laugh anymore. I promised to take her shopping at a healthy market; I couldn’t have Miss Angie OD’ing on salt, fat, and processed crap.
“Yo, I’ll see the rest of y’all bums at the club!” I said, trading handshakes with everyone and a big hug with Angie.
Later that day I was getting dressed for Nick’s party. Gucci sweater, Gucci belt, and Prada sneakers—basically my wholesaler uniform. Soni snuck up and wrapped her arms around me while I checked myself out in the mirror.
“You be safe with those thugs, okay! I’m so scared! You too cute to be around them anyway.”
I spun around and kissed her forehead. “I’m chilling for like a hour or two. I’ll see you later, babe,” I said, pecking her forehead again.
“I love you!”
“Love you too!”
I pulled up in front of the club and parked by a fire hydrant. The line rapped around the side of the building. Dudes in sweaters and Aldo shivering next to girls in shinny-skimpy skirts and high heels. I knew the bouncers and the promoters, which meant a bunch of things, like I didn’t have to freeze on line. I didn’t get patted down. I didn’t pay to get in and we already had a couple of tables. I was one of the last from my crew to arrive. Nick stood on the couch wearing the two watches with a bottle of champagne in each hand. He had another tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. Dog Boy nodded in a stupor, LT nudged me when I reached our section and said Dog Boy had been asleep in there all night. The place was packed with thugs and model types. They girls were pretty but they weren’t Soni. Nick leaped off of the couch when he saw me. “Yo, you gotta meet Ronny, my nig!”
Ronny was Nick’s new connect, a forty-something wild Jamaican with big sleepy eyes and balding dreads. I didn’t know him well, but I heard he chopped a guy’s head off down Lafayette back in ninety-something. Who knows if it was true or not, but his clout was real and he’d probably kill Nick if he messed up his money.
“Ronnie, this Dee, man, he my bro.” Nick grabbed us both. “We all gotta link, man, this real family shit!”
Ronnie extended his hand. “Me hear you ’bout your business. We should rap soon, brudda.”
I gave him a firm shake. “No doubt, Dread.”
The club thickened, other crews showed up; east Baltimore was everywhere with some cool dudes from west and couple of Cherry Hill cats. We were packed in, sideways walking and squeeze-through room only. I was trying to push through to get Dog Boy so we could slide. I reached the VIP section and said, “Yo, let’s blow this spot! It’s too hot in here!”
“Looooooooooook, Dee!” he said, pointing to the other side of the club.
Nick was fussing with a dude. I fought through the crowd and got close enough to see Nick hit the dude in the head with a Cristal bottle. The dude’s knees buckled and hit the floor. Another guy picked him up before he fell and held his limp body up. Nick woke him up with two more blows across his face and then put him to sleep with an upper cut. The kid looked finished but east Baltimore wasn’t. A collage of every block and crew from my side of town united on this guy’s head. I pulled Nick away from the melee. Timberland boots, Nike Air Force 1s, flowerpots, pint glasses, and everything else crushed his body. It was a modern lynching. His complexion was blood; I wasn’t sure if he was dead or not but I bet he wished he was. They brought his limp body out on a stretcher. It took me and Dog Boy to drag Nick to the car. Everyone cheered at the body. I wondered where his friends were. And if he was dead, who would be charged with the murder? What in the fuck was wrong with those guys? What in the fuck was wrong with me?
“Yo, nigga, let’s hit Norma’s!” screamed a half-drunk Nick, pulling away. I locked on his drunk body and flung us to the ground. He popped up before me and dropped his gun. Dog Boy grabbed it. “You actin’ dumb, bitch! Chill!” he yelled, tucking the gun in his dip. The whole police department was on Eutaw now, right in front of the club. I hit the automatic start on my car. “Come on, man, we gotta roll!” Nick was squatting in the alley shitting. Dog Boy approached him and he spit some red and green shit right in his direction.
“I’m not gonna leave ya fat ass—come on!” Dog Boy yelled at Nick, trying not to step in the shit or the throw-up on the sidewalk. Nick headlocked Dog Boy and they circled. “You wannnn fight boy, come on! You think you grown?”
I jumped back out of the car and threw a wide haymaker at Nick’s jaw: one blow stretched him out. His own pile of shit and throw-up broke his fall. We dragged his fat body to the back of my car.
“Never again!” I yelled. “Yo really smell like shit in my car! I just got this detailed!”
“What you wanted to leave him, Dee! Damn, he drunk!” said Dog Boy, rubbing his neck.
“Fuck you. I’m taking my girl and her mom to the movies tomorrow! They don’t wanna smell this shit! I don’t wanna smell this shit!”
Dog Boy tried to say I was overreacting. I turned the music up over whatever he was talking about. I hoped that kid didn’t die. Everybody knows Nick; what if they finger him? Everybody knows us; what if it’s me? One drunk night could ruin everything. And I wasn’t even drunk.