Page 11 of Dima
I just wanted to have a good time with people my age. Being a young agent meant that I was usually surrounded by men who were much older than me. With the Durty Boyz, I felt like I found my place. I knew I wouldn’t be in this place for long, but the men that I was slowly building bonds with reminded me life was about more than work. I now had something to look forward to outside of catching the bad guys.
The more time I spent at the clubhouse, the more I struggled with the idea of the good guy versus bad. I knew these men were criminals, but there was a duality to the situation now. Like, maybe they wouldn’t have been bad guys if life hadn’t put them in that position.
Some of the men whom I thought were the problems in our community were only looking for a way out. How could I fault them for that when I was trying to get out myself? My childhood was tough, but it was nothing compared to what some of these men had been through.
I’d been undercover in the Durty Boyz organization for almost two months now, and the ball was slowly starting to roll. Last night, they let me overhear the first shipment drop, and I shot it to Fitz immediately. That promotion and transfer already had my name on it.
I was ready to get the fuck away from Jackson. I felt like my whole life was waiting on me once I was able to step out of my father’s shadow. Hell, even my uncle’s shadow.
“Aye, I’ma get up with you boys later. I got some shit to do before we ride tonight.”
I dapped up Mob, who had finally rejoined us, then moved on to Daze. Daze dapped me up before pulling me into a side hug. We’d become so close so fast that some of the guys thought we’d been known each other. That was my dog, for real, and I hoped I could keep him out of the mix when all this shit went down.
“Nigga probably about to go beat his dick. He ain’t never getting on none of these hos.”
“You need to stop getting on these hos. That’s why yo’ dick itching now,” I shot back at Mob, and the whole room erupted. They knew I was telling the truth. His ass had a different girl every night, and none of them looked clean. I walked out before he had time to think of a comeback.
“You ready for this shit, youngblood?” Guard asked as I mounted my bike.
We were all lined up outside the compound, getting ready for the run to D Bar. There was leather being thrown over shoulders, and patches catching the glow of the streetlights. It all felt so familiar.
“I was born for this,” I replied truthfully. I’d been riding motorcycles for as long as I could remember. My grandfather had passed down the love for riding to his sons, and they made sure I loved it too.
As soon as Guard walked off, Daze shot me an excited grin. He had been trying to move up from prospect a lot longer than I had, and tonight, he would finally get his shot.
“Stay sharp tonight, bro; they gon’ be watching,” he said, climbing on his bike.
“Always.”
This short ride to the club would be my first ride with the crew as one movement, with Bishop leading the pack. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to be part of something like this. As an only child, I spent most of my time alone. The time I spent with the men in the clubhouse made me feel like I had brothers.
Engines turned over in staggered ignition, making one big, loud ass roar. Bishop’s bike rolled first, with Guard behind him, and the rest falling in by rank. We were all the way in the back, giving me a chance to appreciate the full view of all of us together.
Cars slowed, too afraid to break the formation as we creeped down the streets of South Jackson. People stared from their front porches, not mistaking who we were. The Durty Boyz were legends in Jackson, and tonight, I got to see what that meant.
By the time we reached D Bar, the music spilled into the streets. The crowd was thick as hell, but they parted for us to move through. I could tell it was people from all over the city that had come out tonight, probably because they knew the Durty Boyz would be in attendance.
We parked our bikes in a row that no one would touch and hung our helmets. I could feel the atmosphere tilt in our direction. As if my eyes were always meant to find her, they landed on Maeve. She was with about five other girls at the door, talking to the bouncer. Of course, it wasn’t long before he let her whole crew in.
“Aye, cover for me if you have to. I’ll meet y’all inside.”
Daze followed my eyes and shook his head.
“I told you to stay away from that girl, man. The pussy can’t be worth ending up in a body bag.”
“Watch your mouth. I’ll meet you inside.”
He threw his hands up in mock surrender. If I could take his advice, I would, but I couldn’t get Maeve’s beautiful ass face out of my head. I knew I wouldn’t even get a chance to talk to her once we were all in the same building, so I wasn’t trying to hear what Daze was talking about. I just needed a small moment of her time to sustain me the whole night.
The bouncer was a member of Durty Boyz, so he dapped me up and let me in without a problem. Once I was inside, my eyes naturally found Maeve strutting to the bar, hand in hand with one of her homegirls. They were both wearing tiny ass dresses, but Maeve’s cupped her ass cheeks in a way that made me want to pick her up and drag her to my house. There was no way everybody else was supposed to see the same thing I saw. She looked way too damn good to share.
I walked coolly over to the bar and acted like I was getting a drink. When she turned around, we were face-to-face. Neither of us said anything at first. It wasn’t intentional on my end. I never knew what to say when I was this close to her.
“Dima, what are you doing here?”
Maeve looked around to see who else had followed her. I could understand why she was paranoid. Bishop had her on a tight leash. Judging by how good she looked tonight, he wasn’t wrong.
“Here with the crew.”
