“What?” Rhonda shouted into her cell phone. Bad Blood was about to go on and the crowd was hyped, so she had to move near the door to really hear. Even being far away from the stage, she had a hard time understanding Yoshi. “What you mean, y’all are ready to go? Yoshi, the show just started.” She listened as Yoshi spoke, making faces at everything she said. “A fight with who? Look, bitch, I don’t know what kind of shit you got yourself into up in here, but I ain’t ready to go. The show hasn’t even started yet.” Yoshi said something else, but it went in one ear and out the other. “Whatever, Yoshi. I’ll see y’all bitches on the block,” she said, hanging up.

“What’s wrong?” Reese asked, noticing the change in Rhonda’s mood.

Rhonda sucked her teeth. “That bitch Yoshi, on her bullshit as usual.”

“Yoshi? Where the hell did she disappear to?”

“Probably found a dick to fall on,” Rhonda said humorously. “Her and Billy are outside trying to catch a cab.”

“So are we leaving, too?” Reese asked, hoping Rhonda agreed so she wouldn’t run the risk of seeing Don B. or Jay.

“Hell no. The party is just about to get popping and we’re gonna shut this bitch down.” Rhonda held her hand up for a high five.

Reese slapped it, but it was only halfhearted. Ever since she had seen Don B., she had wanted to crawl under a rock and die. She had been a fool to think that someone like Don B. could dig a girl like her, but she still let him and his crew hit it. She had played herself and knew it, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Reese followed Rhonda to the foot of the stage and watched nervously as Bad Blood came out to the roar of the crowd.

Paul stood off to the back of the crowd, sipping a vodka and cranberry. Someone had announced that Bad Blood was about to take the stage, throwing the crowd into a near frenzy. Paul didn’t understand what all the hype was about. He had heard the group spit on mix CDs and thought they were good, but they were hardly the caliber of rappers people were trying to amp them up to be. Paul was from the era of cats like Rahkim and Big Daddy Kane, so this new generation of hip-hop didn’t move him like that.

“It’s about to go down, kid.” Larry approached, handing Paul another drink.

“Damn, I haven’t even finished this one,” Paul complained, but accepted the drink. “You trying to get me fucked up?”

“Paul, stop whining like a little bitch. It’s the weekend, my dude!”

“Larry, every day is the weekend to you.” Paul downed the first drink he was holding and went to work on the second one.