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“Naw, you know I’m not gone cheat on Peanut. He a square ass nigga, but he mine.” I looked toward the dance floor and found a spot. I kept my eyes there, so they wouldn’t end up back on Mr. Fine.

Anton “Tax” Hodges

I pulled up directly in front of the club and parked. Key was behind me, so I climbed out. I was in the Maybach today, since it was no reason for me to be inconspicuous. We dapped up security as they walked us past the long line and inside. Nobody here knew I was Tax, but Anton had enough money to get treated like somebody without the urban myth attached. Same access and respect, just without the fear. I actually preferred it that way. They took us to our normal section, so we walked in and took a seat.

“Anton, Key. Yall drinking the usual?”

“Yeah, bring the Louis,” Key shouted toward her over the music. “You paying.” I looked at him like he was crazy.

“Why?”

“Cus I drove last time.” Now I was confused.

“What the fuck that gotta do with some bottles in the club?”

“Cus I wasted my gas.”

“You so damn cheap.” Key shrugged as if he wasn’t bothered.

“I have money because I respect it.”

“Naw, you have money because you steal that shit electronically.” This time he laughed.

“I relocate funds. Words matter.” I was still laughing when a group of women walked past our section. All of them were bad, so when one looked over and smiled, I stopped her.

“Yall come sit down and have a drink.” Three of them stopped as if they wanted to, but the one that smiled at me didn’t.

“Baby, you not the only boss in here tonight. We got our own shit.” She pointed across the club before walking off and her friends following behind her.

“Damn nigga.” I looked over at Key trying to see what he was talking about.

“What?”

“She told your goofy ass no.”

“She said they got a section.” His ass shrugged.

“That’s a no.”

“I offered them somewhere to sit; they already got somewhere.”

“You can change the words all you want to, but they ass still over there and you over here.”

“Fuck you!” The waitress brought our bottles minus the sparklers and theatrics. We were regulars here and they knew we didn’t like it. I don’t know why niggas get that shit. To me it was telling the thirsty bitches in the club, look at me, I spent some money. Come drink my shit up.

The club was already live, so I looked around and watched the crowd. I’m not gone lie it was a lot to look at. Most of the women either had on a see through one piece or shorts that stopped halfway over their ass. I took a sip of my drink as I continued to enjoy the view. After a while, I was starting to feel good. Nodding my head to the music, I did another sweep of the club when someone caught my eye. Standing up, I watched shorty leave the bar and go to a section.

“Key.”

“What?” I nodded toward the other side of the club. He followed my eyes, but he was still confused. “What am I looking at?”

“Gas station.” That was all I needed to say. He looked again and laughed.

“Damn, that is her.” Bubbles looked a whole lot different without a bonnet on her head and a lame ass nigga attached to her. Her hair fell to her ass, and the dress she had on showed everything the gas station did not. I could tell she was thick that day, but I didn’t know she was built like this. Out of nowhere, she bent over the couch and started throwing that shit. “Nigga.” Key snatched me out of my trance.

“What?”

“You staring.”