Page 113 of Stay Dangerous

Plus, Richard was leaving. I was celebrating.

The sun was climbing the sky, peeking into my curtains as I lit my blunt. Saturdays at Paradise were lit, but so were Sundays, so I was meeting up with my crew there later on that night. Before then, I was gonna stop in the west side at this sports bar Wave owned to pregame.

There were stacks of cash on my bed, as well as a notebook I used to keep track. The bulk of my money I saved, but I stillbroke some off to Pops. Even though I shouldn’t have, I gave Turkey ten grand, since Pops was worried about the state of the broken down booty club. They had good girls, and Auty was a natural dancer, but that was for sure a shithole. They didn’t even have good wings!

And then, of course, my… habits.

Having an addictive personality was interesting, to say the least. Anything bad for me, I loved. I needed. To fill the hole Rico left when he showed me who he was.

It started with piercings. My ears. My navel. My septum. I chickened out at my nipples, since I wanted my titties done, so I got a tattoo.

Bad Girl. Right under my ass cheek.

I knew then I wanted to be covered in them.

But I wanted to wait until I got my titties done. Wave claimed they’d grow when I got in my twenties, so I was being patient.

Twenty-one, though, I was getting them.

So my vices turned to things that made me feel better for longer periods of time.

Good ass liquor.

Kush.

Other things for when I needed to be alert.

Sunday morning, I faced a blunt of that OG. After counting my money and recording how much I had, I rubberbanded it and placed it back in my duffels under my bed.

Mom and Dad were out of town, watching Nana die. She had six months when they first left, a year before. But I was old enough to recognize that the three of them only wanted Summer. And they gave up when Summer died.

It didn’t bother me anymore. I had somewhere to stay to stack my money. Somewhere familiar, with Pops next door. By my calculations, I could have gotten up to half a mil in two years’ time. Enough for a small condo.

Finishing the blunt, I grabbed the VSOP from the floor and took a generous gulp. My eyes were low, and after the drink, I knew I was in for a good sleep.

Of course, at six, when it’s time to start my night, I needed a little pick me up. Something to take the edge off, that feeling I had that made me wanna curl up in my bed and stay there for ten years.

I grabbed the baggie off my nightstand and dipped my stiletto pinky nail inside, then brought it to my nose.

Just a little bump for each nostril.

It was enough to wake me up, to get me in the mood to be around people.

The best thing about Wave and Flyy, and niggas with money in general, was that they always had quality shit. Nothing stepped on. Being up all night, days at a time, making sure the play went through, I quickly understood why they needed a bump or a line to stay focused. It didn’t take long for me to partake, but this was something I kept strictly between me and Wave. His cousin didn’t even know.

I told myself it was only when I needed it. When the days started to blur, or I really,reallydidn’t want to be around anyone, but I needed to. And Wave did it too, and he was fine.

I could handle it.

Licking the residue out of my nail because we don’t waste shit, I smiled at the energy zooming through me.

It was Sunday night. I was young, hot, and paid. I was ready to get into some shit.

My ponytail, courtesy of Frankie, was still fresh, so I just hit it with one pass of my flat iron after I showered and did my makeup. I painted cheetah print above my eyes, since I decided on cheetah leggings, a long black tunic tank top, showing a hot pink bandeau, and my black Louboutins. They hurt like a bitch when I was breaking them in, but the way I knew I waspregaming that night, my feet would be too numb for me to be in pain.

I called a rideshare when I was ready, put three bands into my clutch, grabbed my blunts and a personal bottle of Jack Daniels, and locked up.

Years of building my tolerance meant the personal bottle wouldn’t do shit to me, even if I hadn’t eaten all day. I barely had a buzz by the time I pulled up to Social, throwing the empty bottle away before I went inside.