Authors: J. Gail
“Where you going, bro?” Terrance asked with a confused look on his face at his friend’s quick change in demeanor.
“Back to Nisha’s. I gotta pee. Unless you wanna hear a grown man scream.”
Terrance let out a restrained chuckle, but ended it quickly. He knew the situation was still a sore spot for Tony, despite his humor. Tony stopped and turned back around at the door before leaving.
“Yo, we going to Devilutions tonight, you trying to go?”
“Devilutions? Man you going to that ghetto ass club?” Terrance asked with his nose scrunched up.
“Hell yeah, they having $1 shots and beers before 12. You damn straight Imma be there. Imma drink myself into oblivion over this shit. Are you trying to go or not?” Tony asked impatiently, as he walked back towards the stairs and then back to the door, trying to hold back the urge.
“Man, you need to be heading to that clinic, not the club. But yea I guess I’ll roll through. Who else is going?” Terrance asked, curious about the possibility of his getting some that night. The girl’s at Devilutions were notoriously easy.
“Probably Scoop, Rob and Belly,” Tony said, his voice trailing off as he headed outside, the screen door slamming behind him.
* * *
Devilutions was a night club populated mostly by dirty, grimy thugs and shameless hoodrats, a few decent types thrown here and there. About 30% of the regular crowd had bullet wounds, and it seemed as if the party wasn’t really over until somebody started shooting outside.
Tony, Rob, Scoop and Terrance finally walked in at 11:15pm after waiting on line for about a half hour. Belly couldn’t make it because of a prior engagement, but everybody knew it was because his possessive baby’s mother told him he couldn’t go out. They arrived in just enough time to catch the drink specials, and had only paid half-price because Rob’s boy worked the door. He of course got in for free. The women who walked in with them could smell the broke nigga scent emanating from these brothas from a mile away, and each took a mental note of their faces for future reference.
Tony swaggered up to the bar, ready to spend up the $25 he had left after paying admission. He hadn’t had time to ask his mom for more cash because of procrastinating in the streets too long. The hispanic female bartender came over smiling.
“What can I get you?” she asked leaning over the bar to hear.
“Gimme two shots of Henny, those are a dollar right?”
“No the Hennessey is regular price, $6 a shot. The only dollar shots are …. Smirnoff, Bankers Club, Bacardi Dark….” the bartenders voice came in and out over the noise as she listed a few more cheap brands.
“Damn. Aiight, just give me two shots of Smirnoff. Naw, make that one shot Smirnoff, one shot of Bacardi.”
“Tony, man, you ain’t supposed to mix light and dark liquor. You gonna be fucked up if you keep that up,” Scoop piped in from behind him. Rob and Terrance flanked him on either side.
“Shut up the hell up man. I’ll drink how I want,” Tony said as he watched the bartender pour the liquor into little plastic cups.
Scoop ignored him. “Lemme get a Hennessey. I
gots
a job so I can afford the good shit,” he joked back at Tony when the bartender got back with Tony’s drinks and threw a $20 bill on the bar. The bartender tried to hide a smile as she turned to retrieve the open bottle of Hennessey. Rob yelled out his order of a shot of Bacardi Dark as well.
“Nigga I can afford that shit,” Tony said slightly annoyed and embarrassed. He downed his shots one after the other. Scoop and Terrance shook their heads, watching the bartender ring up Scoop’s Hennessey. When she came back, the bartender gave Scoop change, of which he left $2 on the bar as a tip. She asked if Terrance needed anything, but he waved her off.
“Okay then. That’ll be…$3 for the other drinks please,” the bartender said looking at Tony, who was sitting closest to the bar, after adding up the amounts in her head.
“What? Oh naw, you gotta separate that. Those are separate orders,” Tony specified.
Rob looked at Tony as if he had farted right in his face. “Nigga you can’t pay a dollar for my drink? I’ll get you later.”
“Naw, naw. You know damned well I ain’t down for that. Later on yo ass will be running around the club chasing bitches and I can’t find you nowheres to pay for
my
drink. Fuck that, pay for own your drink nigga,” Tony said throwing a $5 bill on the bar. The bartender turned around and rang up his order.
“You cheap as shit! I cannot believe this nigga’s getting particular over a buck!” Rob complained as he pulled out a $10 bill and threw it on the bar.
“Bucks add up. Quit complaining,” Tony sneered. The bartender came back with his change and Tony took two dollars from her. “Let me get a Bud.”
Terrance watched as Tony put the $2 dollars in his pocket. “You ain’t gonna give her that?”
“Naw! What the hell for, she ain’t do nothing but pour some drinks in a cup,” he answered rudely. The bartender overheard the last bit of the conversation, and slammed Tony’s beer down on the bar before walking away.
“She’ll get over it,” Tony laughed and walked away from the bar, following Rob.
The club was getting packed, but it was still light enough to easily pass through the crowd. A cute light skinned girl passed by and Tony jumped in front of her. He was moving to the beat of Da Band’s
Bad Boy This
, holding his beer high and looking down at the girl like a piece of meat. She followed suit and grabbed onto him, moving in a two step and then finally turning around, dropping to the floor and grinding her way back up.
The night went on and before Tony knew it, it was going on 2:15am. The club wasn’t shutting down until 3am though. Tony was lit. And then had the nerve to go to the bar once again and order another shot of Bacardi, which was now $3. The other bartender working the bar, a short pretty chubby-faced brown skinned girl, went to the other side of the bar to get a new bottle of Bacardi Dark. The hispanic bartender, Melinda, pulled her aside as she was pulling the bottle out of the crate.
“You getting that for that broke ass nigga over there? The one with the fake ass Girbaud t-shirt?” she asked.
“Yea, why?” the brown skinned bartender named Brenda responded and started twisting the bottle cap off.
“Hold up,” Melinda said as she held up her hand and walked over to the middle of the bar. She found a double shot glass holding some dirty bar tools. She took the tools out and saw that there was the beginnings of mold on the bottom of the glass. The glass was so dirty and cloudy with specks of grime that she could barely see through it. Requesting the bottle of Bacardi from her bar-mate, she smiled and looked over at Tony, who was looking as if he was about to spin off his seat. Brenda just looked on, knowing that her girlfriend had to have a method to her madness. She watched Melinda turn around and discreetly pour a healthy glass of the Bacardi dark in the dirty glass, and then walk over to the other side of the bar to garnish it with a lime. She smiled and handed the drink to Brenda.
“Here, give him a double shot of this.” Melinda threw her head back and laughed as she walked away to help more customers.
Back on the other side of the bar, Brenda handed Tony the drink.
“That’ll be $3 please,” she said in her sweetest voice. She watched as Tony threw the shot back without hesitation and cringed. He smacked his lips and made a funny face as he pulled what was left of his money out of his pocket. He put $3 on the bar and got up, but before he left he stopped Brenda again.
“Wait, here.” He stumbled, and then shoved his hand in his pants pocket coming out with a handful of change. He picked 50 cents out of the pile and placed it on the bar, pushing it forward and smiled as if he were giving her a twenty dollar bill. “That’s for you.”
Brenda the bartender pushed the two coins back to him. “Keep it. You need it more than me brah,” she said and walked off, annoyed.
That’s why your ass just drank a Bacardi and Mildew, nigga
, she thought. No wonder Melissa had a vendetta on him. She wanted to flick those coins at his forehead.
Tony turned up his nose and picked his 50 cents right back up off the bar. “Fine, shit that was almost a 20% tip!”
The women sitting at the bar shook their head at his sorry trifling self.
Tony made his way back over to the middle of the dance floor and roughly pulled a girl wearing a bra top which was only hidden by a sheer shirt towards him. They started dancing wildy, not having any type of regard or remorse for who they were pushing out of the way nearby. After a few moments, a brother wearing a pair of authentic Gucci shades balanced on his forehead pushed Tony out of the way and told him to watch himself. Tony ignored him and kept dancing, even more reckless than before. When the Gucci brotha had been hit a couple more times, he again pushed Tony, causing him to fall forward into the girl he was dancing with. Gucci had about four inches on Tony.
“What the fuck?” the ghetto hispanic girl said balancing herself. Tony had some words with Gucci before walking off to find his boys.
He spotted Rob near the bar, and luckily Scoop not far from him dancing with a girl that looked like she needed a shower with a fire hose. He grabbed them both, talking in a tone that let them know he needed their attention immediately, and they followed him back to the middle of the dance floor. Tony pointed out Gucci, like a little girl telling on someone who had bothered her on the bus, and Scoop and Rob, who was officially heavy at 5’9 285 lbs immediately walked up on the dude with Tony close behind. Rob and Scoop then stood on either side of Gucci, while Tony stood in the middle facing him.
“What seems to be the problem?” Scoop inquired.
“There ain’t no problem, yo boy just need to learn how to respect people’s space,” Gucci said annoyed, but sensing that something was about to go down. Just then out of the blue Tony reached over to mush Gucci in the face, and when Gucci tried to retaliate, Rob and Scoop immediately pounced on him. One of them threw a punch, while the other tried to restrain his hands. Tony stood by and laughed. Gucci’s $400 glasses fell off his face, and hit the floor, along with his cell phone, which had been strapped to his belt. Scavengers rushed to pick up the falling items, one of them of course Tony, who managed to scoop up the cellphone, keys and some money that had slipped out of Gucci’s pocket as he was struggling to get free. The bouncers finally got over to the scene and grabbed Gucci from Rob and Scoop, carrying Gucci to and out the door.
“Get the fuck off me! How you gonna take me out? They the ones that came at me!…” Gucci could be heard before the bouncers closed the door in his face.
At 3:00 the club let out and Tony and his boys were still falling out laughing about what had happened to Gucci. When they came out they saw that he was still there, arguing with the bouncers and one of the promoters about having been taken out and losing most of his valuable belongings. The promoters were trying to calm him down, but to no avail. It got worse when he spotted Tony and his friends.
“There they go! These the niggas ya’ll let stay in the club and steal my shit!” Gucci tried to make a rush at one of them, but the 330 pound bouncer held him back. Gucci looked at him helplessly. “Come on man, they probably got my keys and shit. I can’t get home without my damn keys!”
“You just gonna have to calm down, my man. Just go back in the club, maybe they got your keys at the DJ booth,” the bouncer reasoned.
Tony and his boys stifled laughter as they quickly moved towards Scoop’s truck. Terrance was thoroughly confused.
“What happened?” he asked, still uninformed.
About 15 minutes into their ride home, Tony felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He went to the source and saw that it wasn’t his phone, but Gucci’s. He quickly picked up.
“Yeee-ooww,” Tony greeted obnoxiously.
“Who’s this?”
“This ya boy, who dis?” Tony chuckled. Rob and Scoop joined in when they realized what was happening.