Kross stood up from the chair and handed her back the mirror. “Deno ain’t never charged me,” he enlightened her; however, it went through one ear and out the other.
“Nigga, ain’t shit free. My daddy gone, and just like you said, the world keeps spinning,” she countered, still awaiting her paper.
A smooth chuckle drifted out of him as he stuck his hand into the pocket of his Amiri jeans and pulled out a wad of all blues. He fingered through ten blues before sitting a stack in her hand.
“Get them windows fixed while you at it. Pleasure doing business with you, shawty.” He shot her a smooth head nod before heading out of the shop, leaving a long-lasting impression on her.
Chapter Fourteen
Kross kept his head on a swivel as he stepped out into the thin air of the night. The line to enter King of Diamonds damn near wrapped around the building as everyone came to tap into the electrifying vibes Miami had to offer. It took a lot to drag Kross out the house. If it didn’t have shit to do with Cassie, Aniyis’ recovery, or making some money, he was inside. Tonight, though, he put on his best shit and heaviest jewelry to step out alongside the guys to celebrate Los’ birthday. His people liked to do it big, so he had to show up and show out. As the full moon casted down on the city, it illuminated the blinding diamonds on his Audemars Piguet watch and his Cuban link chain. The thick diamond encrusted ‘PC’ pendant on his chain that represented Paper Chase hit his chest with a light thud with every stride he took.
Alongside him, Los, Noonie, and Ezekiel stepped out their own cars looking like money. The PC pendants that hung around their necks branded the men as a family as they rolled through and skipped the line. They had motherfuckas breaking and straining their necks just to catch a glimpse of them. It was clear as day that they were touching paper and intended to make it hurricane inside the club for the night that was ahead of them.
“‘Preciate you coming out for ya boy,” Los said as he dapped Kross up with an ear-to-ear grin on his face.
Kross could tell that Los was already on cloud nine, and they hadn’t even stepped foot in the club yet. It was his birthday, and he deserved to live it the fuck up.
“It’s nothin’, nigga. It’s been seven years since I got to do it big with you. We turning up tonight.”
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking ‘bout!” Los clapped, causing their crew to chuckle. He was high as fuck already, and he was determined to have a good-ass time.
Before stepping inside, Kross was sure to do a headcount of everybody. Alongside him were his brother, Noonie, and Los, along with a few soldiers who were a part of the Paper Chase Crew. They were rolling twenty niggas deep in total. There were no questions or security check at the door. As soon as Kross showed his face, they rolled inside and were immediately enveloped in the jumping atmosphere of the club. Future’s song “Freak Hoe” was blaring through the speakers as colorful strobe lights flashed within the club. It was inching toward midnight, and the club was already packed with motherfuckas who were standing shoulder to shoulder.
As they walked through, people parted like the Red Sea to let them navigate to their reserved sections. It had been a while since Kross had been in the company of so many people, so he had to get accustomed to the number of eyes that were plastered onto him, clocking his every move. He shouldn’t have expected anything less when he was looking as good as he did. He was fitted in a Hellstar muscle tee, and his sleeve of tattoos was on full display. With full intentions of making it hurricane in the club, he walked through with four pockets full in his Valabasas stacked jeans. His feet were adorned in a pair of Louis Vuitton trainers that tied his look together. Because this was his first appearance since being released, he had bitches’ eyes peeledback as they strategized how they were going to end the night with him. With Cassie resting, he was free game to all the bad bitches in Miami who missed out on their opportunity before he got locked up.
They were welcomed to the section by bottle girls who were waving sparklers in the air as they carried out big-ass bottles of Don Juilo and Clase Azul. A chuckle drifted out of Kross once he read one of the two signs the girls were carrying. One read ‘Happy Birthday, PC-Los’ while the other read ‘Welcome Home, PC- Kross.’ Once the guys saw Kross take notice of his welcome home sign, they all dapped him up, and Los made it clear that it wasn’t only his birthday they were celebrating, but Kross’ homecoming as well.
After a few shots were taken and blunts were smoked, the men were in their element having a good time. Leaning back against the velvet couch of the section, Kross took in the atmosphere, making sure liquor and good za didn’t cloud his judgment. Ezekiel, who flung his iced-out wrist in the air to make it rain on some hoes they had bent over in their section, glanced over at his brother and noticed he wasn’t turning up how he should have been. After doing a bid for seven years and losing his lady, Kross deserved a night to let lose more than anybody. For the life of him, Ezekiel couldn’t understand why he chose to lean back in the cut and just chill.
“Man, if you don’t grab one of these hoes up in here and handle yo’ business!” he encouraged his brother while slamming a stack of ones in Kross’ hand.
“I’m chilling, man!” Kross shouted to him over the music.
Ezekiel smacked his lips before standing up on the couch. His eyes scoped around the club before he extended his hand to call someone over to their section. Moments later, Kross could see a shorty with a fat ass who was wearing nothing but a G-string and nipple pasties make her way over. Lust filled her eyes as shelicked her plump lips. She had been eyeing the Paper Chase boys for a minute now but didn’t want to look like one of the thirsty hoes who had rushed over to the sections so fast, they damn near trampled each other.
“Look, get my brudda’ right! His money good!” Kross overheard his brother instruct shawty who locked eyes with him.
“Damn Shorty” by Chief Keef and Sexyy Red came on and had the club jumping. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to bounce her ass to the beat of the song, she left Ezekiel and sashayed right over to Kross. With a fat blunt in one hand and a tall stack of ones in the other, Kross leaned back and enjoyed the view of her ass moving like water. He made money rain down on her endlessly as she made her ass clap for him.
She turned around to face him and shot him a sexy smile before she rested her hands on his broad shoulders. “I’m Yari. You enjoying yourself tonight, papi?” she spoke close to his ear with her heavy Dominican accent.
“I’m coolin’ it.” Kross shrugged as he blew a stream of smoke in her face. She smiled in pure bliss while inhaling the exotic za.
“The hood is glad you’re back home. Don’t none of these niggas blow paper like you and the Paper Chase Crew, not even them flexing-ass Zone 7 niggas,” she jested with a roll of her eyes, followed by a light giggle. She was trying her best to talk herself into some more paper from him. Her talk game could’ve used a little help in Kross’ opinion, but she managed to still garner his attention at the mention of the Zone 7 Disciples.
He licked his lips before he leaned up in his seat. To keep her stable on his lap, he wrapped his arms around her waist while he craned down toward her ear. “Them niggas in here tonight?” he asked as his eyes darted around the darkness of the club in an attempt to pinpoint them himself.
“Mhm,” she hummed near his ear. “I just came from their section.” She looked over her shoulder and pointed across theclub. Kross’ eyes shifted in that direction, and sure enough, he could see a gang of niggas posted up with a few dancers floating around, trying their best to come up on some of the paper they were throwing. The only familiar face he had embedded in his mind was the nigga he popped at the projects back in Pompano, so he tried his best to see if he was in the section as well, but he was nowhere in sight.
Reaching over to his left, he grabbed a few stacks of ones that were still bundled together with rubber bands and handed them over to her. “I ‘preciate you, shawty. Do me a favor and clear out the section and take your bitches with you,” he instructed her with a coldness lacing his tone.
He could see the look of regret that sprawled all over her face as she rose from his lap. “Aye, you good. Just do like I told you,” he assured her.
With a nod of her head, she thanked Kross for the extra paper he broke her off before she began gathering the rest of the dancers who occupied the two sections the Paper Chase Crew was rolling deep in.
He could see the confusion and agitation that washed over the faces of his crew as their lap dances were interrupted. He made his way over to Noonie, who was pouring himself another shot of Don Julio. Before he could toss it back, Kross grabbed the cup from him.
“Nigga, what the fuck wrong with you?” Noonie turned his lip up at him, not understanding why he got his drink snatched.
