Page 52 of Forbidden Love

I chuckled inwardly as I read one of their lips. They couldn’t wait to get over here and get their bills paid. Especially with Fatz in the building. He was just getting warmed up for the night. I didn’t care for the club scene and everything that came with it.

Tonight, I gave in for my brother since it was his birthday. He had half of the Eastside out tonight. I pinched the bridge of my nose just as he leaned back in close again and talked loud as hell in my ear.

“You probably not mean to them. That’s what they say though, it practically scares them the fuck away.”

“That ain’t my problem.” I spat.

“It’s my birthday tonight nigga!” Fatz yelled then looked at me with pleading eyes.

“That’s why we here, nigga. You got the help here.” I nodded my head toward a couple of niggas that ran certain trap houses.

“A couple of lieutenants in this bitch. The hoes over there plotting ready to get all of this money. Nigga you good, be happy, eat them fuckin’ wings and relax yourself. Stop worrying about what hoes gone think. Trust, you pay what you weigh nigga. I ain’t stopping no motion for you.” I chuckled.

“Yeah, alright.” He smirked.

Fatz tossed the bone of his party wing on top of the big platter. That was a clear message to all the other niggas in our section to not dare touch any of his damn wings. Soon as we got here, he ordered fifty wings and fries then told the waitress to keep bringing them out every thirty minutes because he wanted them fresh and hot.

“I’M BOUT TO GET LOOSE IN THIS BITCH!” He yelled over the music.

All the niggas in our section cheered him on. I sat back, spread my legs, and just smiled at my brother. I wanted him happy like this all the time, although this was just temporary happiness. Fatz started back taking medicine for his severe depression. He wanted to stop because most of the time it either stabilized him or made him feel tired as hell. He found a therapist; I could tell how he talked about her all the time he was feeling her.

I wanted what was best for Fatz. I put certain niggas in place so that Fatz could get his mind right and not worry too much about what was going on in the streets. The money was flowing, shit was good. I planned on sticking to the script by getting out of this shit sooner than later.

The bass of the music hit my chest like a defibrillator. Women with glitter all over their bodies brought more bottles to the section. Fatz was already acting a damn fool. He stood up and removed his shirt with a bottle of Hennessey in his hands.

“Flood this bitch out with the baddest hoes! I want ass and titties showing all night.” He bounced up and down on his tippy toes, making his belly jump.

I sat up and rolled me a fat Backwood blunt, by the time I had that bitch lit, strippers entered our section with money-hungry eyes.

I got ass cheeks on my white tee! All these hoes keep grindin’ on me. Coming in the club every night of the week. Keep a nigga poppin’ them crispy white tees!

The bass to the song dropped and a tall brown skinned stripper with stretch marks on her thighs stood in front of me. She cupped her titties and jiggled them in front of me. Seductively, she turned around and bent over twerking to the beat. She was fine as hell, and she smelled like she cared about her hygiene. I picked up a stack and tossed it up in the air making it rain all over her.

I looked around her to see what Fatz was doing. I damn near choked on my own smoke as I watched him dance in the middle of the club like he got released from a ten-year bid. Shirtless, his big belly hung; he made it bounce with the beat. Nigga had a whole chicken wing in one hand and the bottle of Hennessy in the other. Somehow, he managed to slap a stripper’s ass with enough force to make her knees buckle. I picked up another band of money and stood up moving around the stripper that still danced in front of me.

Two Eastie niggas followed behind me as I maneuvered through a sea of people to get to Fatz. I popped the rubber band from around the wad of money and threw half of it up inthe air. The strippers’ eyes grew big; all that money was all the motivation that they needed to shake that shit harder.

Fresh from the spot got a brand new pack! Fresh from the trap got a brand new sack! White tees on deck, just pop the tag! No way shit could happen twice. Caught me a chick looking oh so nice. Started out with one dance, ended up with ten!

“Let these hoes know, Fatz!” I yelled over the music laughing.

He turned around, eyes red and wide like he was living his best life. Shit made my heart swell with pride as he held up the chicken wing in the air and yelled. A stripper got in front of me, and I moved her out the way quickly. Fatz started doing the belly roll as he shook his head from side to side in a zone. His stomach looked like it was doing the wave. Sweat poured down his forehead and chubby cheeks as his thick gold chain swung side to side.

A woman half his size struggled to keep up with his movement. This nigga picked up his belly and flopped it down on her ass. I lost my composure and doubled over laughing. Fatz dropped down low and it felt like the club went quiet for a half a second. I was concerned for his kneecaps, it showed on his face that he knew he took a great risk on his damn knees. My blunt fell out of my mouth as my bottom lip dropped to the floor.

“I still got it bitches!” He smiled as he stuck his tongue out like a damn city girl.

“Fatz, you gotta chill nigga.” I wheezed out.

The chicken wing was gone, I damn near cried. My stomach was cramping up from laughing so damn hard.

“That’s your brother, sexy?” A stripper pressed her breasts against the side of my arm.

I simply nodded my head with a smirk on my face. I threw the rest of the money and made my way back toour section to make myself a damn drink. Minutes later, Fatz stumbled over to our section and collapsed next to me. His shirt was now tied around his head like a headband.

“One of them hoes had the nerve to ask me if I was fuckin’ pregnant.” Fatz exploded with laughter as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Bitch said my stomach looked like I was in my third trimester,” he added, snatching up a bottle of D’usse.

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