Jasmine hugged me real tight and kissed me on the cheek. She couldn’t stop smiling and telling me thank you.
After about twenty-five minutes of driving, we reached Sofa Lounge.
“Yo, I know this spot.” BJ turned down the music. “This is the old Jimmy’s Bronx Café.”
I had been to Jimmy’s Bronx Café back in the days, but it had been so long ago, I wasn’t sure if BJ was right or not. He was probably wrong because he was the type that always emphatically knew shit but was always wrong and would never admit it. He was still my nigga for life, though.
After we parked the truck, the four of us walked toward the spot, and as we walked, I started to remember having been there back in the days.
“This is Sofa Lounge? Yo, BJ, this is where we was at that night when Stephon Marbury rolled up flossing in the drop-top Bentley and cats ran up on him at the light and made him run his shit.” I laughed, remembering the incident.
“That’s what I’m saying. We was at Jimmy’s that night. This is the same spot. They just changed the name.”
The line to get into the spot wasn’t crazy, but I was never one to stand on lines. And, plus, LaQuan was a Newark, New Jersey cop, so he had his badge and always could get us in spots if there were ever any issues. I didn’t like putting him in a position where his job would be in jeopardy if something ever jumped off. So I never rolled with the expectation of using the power his badge granted him, unless it was for minor shit like this.
After LaQuan flashed his badge and the bouncer let him inside, he held the rope open for us.
I handed the bouncer a hundred-dollar bill.
“Good looking out,” he said.
I nodded my head to him as I cupped Jasmine by the waist, and we all walked into the spot together. The spot was cool, and was full of Spanish dudes and Spanish chicks.
A Spanish hostess asked Jasmine, “Do you want to put your coat in coat check mami?”
Jasmine took off her coat and revealed the form-fitting dress she had on. She was also rocking a hot pair of stilettos. After we had taken care of the coats and jackets, we headed to the bar and ordered drinks.
By the time we had our third round of drinks, the spot had gotten really packed. A different DJ took over, and he was much better than the first DJ, so it wasn’t long before the spot was really rocking.
Jasmine grabbed me by the hand and pulled me toward the dance floor, which wasn’t far from the bar at all. “You and that too-cool-to-dance shit.”
“Nah, you know I just two-step,” I said directly into her ear.
“You know how to fuck, so I know you can dance,” she shouted into my ear over the music.
“Oh, so that’s the prerequisite?”
“Something like that,” she replied as I two-stepped and she danced in front of me.
I turned my head to see if I could locate BJ and LaQuan. I wanted them to try and get a table for us in the VIP section. Before I could locate my boys, I was met by what felt like a hurricane—Hurricane Mia, to be exact.
Mia pushed me. “So you out partying with this bitch, huh?”
Mia was dressed to kill, looking like a million dollars, in a form-fitting dress and stilettos of her own. I had to quickly get things under control.
“Mia, calm the fuck down,” I said.
Jasmine stepped up to Mia. “Watch who you calling a bitch!”
Mia was much taller than Jasmine, but Jasmine wasn’t about to back down.
Whaaaack!
Mia smacked the shit out of Jasmine, and it looked as if Jasmine didn’t expect to get hit.
“Bitch, I’ll beat your mu-tha-fuck-in’-ass!” Mia said, stressing every syllable, and uncharacteristically coming across like a chick from the hood. She then began unleashing a series of right hooks that all connected with Jasmine’s head. “I told you not to fuck with me!”
Jasmine screamed in anger and also to summon strength from her body. She rushed Mia and pushed her a few feet backwards, until Mia fell on the ground. Jasmine quickly took off both of her shoes and, towering over Mia, who was still on the ground trying to get up, began pummeling her with one of her stilettos.