Page 112 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
“Ahhh shit! Mexicana can get the fuck down!” Mocha yelled.
“Fuck ’em up, boo!” Missy egged on.
Everything around me was enhanced. The blue and red lights lining the ceiling were the most vibrant I’d ever seen in a strip club. The sound of the DJ wasn’t just noise; it was a texture that I could almost reach out and touch. The base was so crispy as if I was inside the speakers, bumping along. I felt a hand slap on my ass and it had me bending over further, grabbing my ankles, and moaning at the same time.
Soft arms wrapped around my waist, and when I looked back and saw Missy, I grinned and kept dancing. Mocha moved behind Missy, then Jisei and Scarlett, and then Dasani followed. Pia stood to the side, sipping from a water bottle, her chocolate skin glowing as she recorded us. The seven of us ground against each other while the bass pulsed through our veins. I could feel sweat dripping from my pores, but I was having too much fun to care. The night was still young, and so were we. The more I danced, the more vibrant the colors seemed, and everything began to blur together. My head was spinning, but clear at the same time. I’d tossed out five thousand of the dollars I’d gotten from Shio and planned to rain plenty more.Why not? There was more where it came from. He told me to enjoy my time here, so that’s exactly what I was going to do.
This was life, and even though it would be short-lived, I was making the most of it. Right here, dancing in a train of stunning women, I made a vow that I was done moping. My life was my own. Yes, I would follow my father's orders, but I wouldn’t lose myself in the process. I was going to live my life without fear, worry, or doubt. Whatever happened, happened. All I could dowas show up as myself and pray that my future husband had even an ounce of compassion that these Americans had shown me in the last couple of weeks.I wouldn’t know a life of torment and misery once I made it back to Mexico, or at least, that was my hope. I knew every day couldn’t and wouldn’t feel like this one, and I knew there was more to life than partying, but partying was when I felt the most free. I was able to dance without worry, drink until I vomited, and ride the high of the tallest cloud. I loved this moment.
Horns blaring jolted me from my movements, and all the ladies removed their arms from our makeshift train, but when I realized it was just the sound effects the DJ was making, I fanned myself and kept swaying my hips.
“Here, boo! Cool off some. You sweatin’ real bad.” Mocha twisted the top off a bottle of water while Pia used a napkin to dab at my face, careful not to smear my makeup.
Jisei had even brought a portable fan and was blowing it all over my body until I looked like I was at a comfortable temperature. The way these ladies were looking out for me had me overwhelmed with emotion, so I pulled them all into a hug. “Thank you so much, chicas. ¡Gracias! ¡Gracias!” My voice cracked on the last thank you, but I exhaled to keep myself together.
“We take care of our own, boo. No thanks needed. Plus, I like your little Spanish ass!” Dasani teased.
Letting them go, I turned around with a smile so big that it lit up the already bright room. The ladies all took spots beside me, placing Dasani in the middle, with me on her right. We all were rocking to the beat of a rapper I didn’t recognize, but the ladies knew him because they’d been rapping word for word.
“You know that lil’ nigga came by my daddy’s house?” Pia voiced loudly so that we could all hear her.
“Who?” Mocha inquired.
“Him—the one rapping this song, Flexer. I guess Mahzeyah calls herself talkin’ to him. I watched their assesallnight. His ass had on more jewelry than a light show.”
“Yeah, he’s getting to it,” Jisei added.
“Don’t let it get back to Matteo. He will be down Pearla’s throat like the boy was there for her.” Scarlett shook her head, and some of the ladies chuckled.
“Girl, right. I hate that Grind is in a coma, but that’s probably the best thing for now. My sister hasn’t quite gotten back to herself, but at least she’s sworn off love. I had to tell her, Bella, and Mahzeyah that the last thing they want is a baby. Not until they have lived their lives at least and found a man worthy to procreate with,” Pia preached as she rubbed her belly.
I didn’t know anything about the business they were referencing, so I kept my mouth closed and sipped my water. I was still smiling at the affection they’d shown me. I was having a ball, and their company was proving to me that I’d been missing true feminine friendship back home.
“I hate like hell she’s gotten with a rapper! But all I could do was give her some game. Essex don’t play those games with me, but he’s also older than Flexer. Flexer is young, and there will be aplethoraof bitches. My words went in one ear and out the other, but they all gon’ have to learn like we had to.” Missy shrugged.
“True…” Dasani added, and that ended the conversation.
Scanning the club, I kept dancing while I stayed seated. Just as the DJ changed songs again, a shiver swept through me. I felt eyes watching me, but hadn't yet located them. There had to be at least three hundred people in the club, not including the naked dancers. As I was about to head to the side table to grab the bottle for a shot, anxiety spurted through me. My stomach felt as if someone was holding me upside down, saliva pooled inmy mouth, and my world began to spin. I had to grip the rail to avoid falling backward.
Eyes so cold that they should have been blue instead of brown burned through me; it physically felt like I was being engraved with a laser. His goatee was short, and the mustache above his top lip wasn’t much fuller. His hair was tapered on the sides, while the top fell loosely in lazy curls. His skin resembled wafers and was marked up with tattoos running from his neck to his wrists. He was dressed in all black—a fitted V-cut T-shirt on the upper half and black jeans on the lower half. A thick diamond necklace hung from his neck, and even though his outfit wasn’t much, I knew it was all designer, and the diamonds spoke what the plain clothing didn’t. I couldn’t see his sneakers, but I knew they were black as well. There were four other men beside him, and three of them I knew were his brothers. My heart dropped into the soles of my shoes when I realized that the fourth man wasn’t one of his siblings, but mine.
“I know I’m married as fuck, and I love Lorenzo down. I don’t fuck outside of my race, but damn, those dudes are fine as fuck over there,” Mocha complimented.
“Where? What dudes?” Pia asked out of curiosity.
“Right there. I don’t know if they’re white or Italian or whatever, but they got the swag of a black nigga.”
“They’re Mexican. The one in the middle has a Mexico chain.” Scarlett hit the nail on the hammer.
Or was it hammer on nail?
“Solana…” Dasani called out, but I was too stuck to look away, lost in my mind of swirling thoughts. “Solana, boo! How do you say, ‘YN…’ well… ‘young nigga’ in Spanish?”
“Negro joven,” I spoke loud enough for her to hear me, but I didn’t know if I had even given her the correct translation. My heart was racing with the power of an F1 car.
“Well, them some fine ass joven negros!” she yelled out, and the ladies fell into a fit of giggles and laughs.
I felt a hand on my shoulder pull me away from the stare off. Scarlett’s face appeared, and she had her phone in her hand with a concerned look etched on her face.
