“And that’s why I’m easy like Sunday morning.” Larry winked.

A girl with skin the color of milk chocolate and thighs made for adult magazines walked up and playfully bumped Larry with her wide hip. Paul half heard him say something to her, but couldn’t make it out over the murmur of the crowd. The girl smiled and pointed off somewhere in the distance and motioned to Larry that she would be right back.

“Who’s the chick with the big ass?” Paul asked, hungrily eyeing her exit.

Larry ran his tongue across the top of his mouth, “Oh, that was this little freak bitch I met about half hour ago. Her name is Portia or some shit.”

“You get right to it, don’t you?”

“Damn right! We paid fifty dollars to get in here, and I plan on getting my money’s worth. And you wanna know the best part?” Larry asked, looking around.

“What?” Paul asked suspiciously.

In answer to his question, Portia returned with a friend. The second girl was dark, but not as dark as Portia. Her hair was feathered and split on one side. Glassy brown eyes went from Paul to Larry as the girl sized them up.

“Stacy, this is the kid Larry that I was telling you about and his man, Paul.” Portia pointed to Paul, who was smiling goofily. She leaned in so only Stacy could hear her, “Told you he was cute.”

Paul gave Stacy the once-over and felt himself becoming semierect. She was a slick young mud kicker who had blossomed nicely. Paul could see a hint of nipple beneath the sheer pink shirt, tied about the belly. Stacy noticed his stare and matched it. The way she held her mouth sent Paul’s imagination racing with the endless possibilities. Yes, he could tell she was a fast bitch and had just enough hood in her to do some real nasty shit if the mood was right. Just how Paul liked them.

That wicked side of him that he had promised to put under wraps when he and Marlene became official beat his chest, demanding its due, and Paul wasn’t sure how long he could be put off. He looked over at Larry, who was smiling at him mischievously; that fat muthafucka knew just what he was doing when he selected the two hood rats. He knew that the devil would come knocking and he was doing everything he could to make sure Paul answered the door.

Bad Blood had the crowd bugging. They performed “Slap Ya Self” and had everybody in there losing their cool. They had only been on the stage for three minutes and two fights had already erupted in the crowd. The dance floor became like a battlefield and Rhonda loved every minute of it.

“These niggaz is in here tripping,” Reese said, stepping to the side just in time to dodge a bottle dropped by a drunk partygoer.