Page 51 of Color Me Broken
Tasha nodded once. “Yeah.”
Tiffany rubbed her back gently. “You did right not lettin’ him pull you back. Let that nigga feel exactly what he feels.Fuck him!”
But even as she agreed, her chest ached like old bruises. She wanted to believe her. She really did. But old feelings don’t just die that easily. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and whispered to her sister. “I do miss him. And seeing him at the cookout only made it worse.”
“You will be okay, Tasha. It will take time to get over him. Shit, go fuck that fine ass baseball player. You’d feel better.”
Tasha threw her pillow at Tiffany, laughing. “Girl, get away from me. You are so crazy.”
The phone feltlike a hot stone in Juelz’s hand. He stared at the blank screen, the sound of Tasha's rejection, a burning echo in his ears. He was so pissed off that he threw his cell phone into the dashboard. The impact was so hard that the glove box popped open, the latch clicking as it gave way. A small, clear ziplock baggie tumbled out and landed on the floor. He snatched the baggie up, his fingers fumbling with the seal.
He hated what he was doing to himself. But more than anything, he just wanted to numb the pain of not having his girl beside him. The love of his life. He was losing himself. Fast.
He dug his pinky finger into the baggie and took a sharp, desperate inhale. The burn ripped through his sinuses instantly, making his eyes snap shut. He gasped, leaning his head backagainst the leather headrest while grabbing his manhood, his jaw clenching so tight it ached. His heartbeat kicked up, mind buzzing, body humming from the rush. The guilt didn’t go away; it just got quieter. Duller.
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, pulling the sun visor down to check for leftover residue on his nose. He needed out. Out of his head. Out of his feelings.
He didn’t want to go back to the penthouse. It was too much like a monument to his failures. Couldn’t hit the trap either, niggas would read his face and start asking too many damn questions. He needed a distraction. Some noise, mixed with a little chaos. Somewhere he could lose himself in smoke and skin.
He grabbed the Henny bottle he had tucked under the seat and took a raw, scorching pull, then hit Mar’s line.
“Aye, Mar, nigga. Get Kane and Sintonio. Meet me at The Royal in thirty. I need my niggas.”
Thirty minutes later, The Royal was already a haze of red lights, bodies moving like smoke, ass and titties bouncing on every stage. The smell of cheap perfume and hookahs kissed every wall.
Juelz and the crew commandeered a VIP section in the back, hidden behind a velvet rope and in the shadows. Different kinds of liquors and expensive champagne were crowding the table before Juelz even sat down.
“Damn, Jue, what we celebrating, nigga?” Kane asked, lifting a blunt from behind his ear.
“Nothing,” Juelz slurred, already feeling tipsy. “We mournin’.”
“Mournin’ what, your damn sobriety?” Mar laughed, trying to keep the mood light, but his eyes were on Juelz, heavy, sensing that something was off with him the moment they stepped through the door.
Juelz was on his second cup of straight liquor and eyes locked on the dancer in front of their section.Cali’ Rack.They didn’t give her that name for nothing. She was thick in all the right places, with braids down to her ass, a waist that was almost nonexistent, and a chest so heavy it looked as if gravity gave up trying. Her titties were sitting high like they were being served on a platter. Niggas didn’t come to The Royal for the vibes; they came to seeher.
She clocked Juelz eyeing her and slid into their section along with two other girls, Caramel Drizzle and Shugaa Cane. All three of them started dancing, slow and seductive, like they could feel the pain in Juelz’s spirit and were trying to dance it out of him.
Cali climbed on him smoothly, straddling his lap, ass rolling with expert rhythm. She planted her hands on his chest, her body moving like water as the DJ blasted “Pop Dat Thang” by DaBaby.
“Pop that thing, let it clap, let it clap
Ride this D while you sit on my lap
Spread them cheeks, let me see that hole
Shake that ass like you out of control
Suck that thing ‘til your throat get sore.”
Juelz leaned back, eyes low, letting the bass swallow him whole as the dancers bounced and clapped ass all over him. Mar was leaning on the railing in front of him, cheering him on, as he threw singles at the ladies. “Get that shit, Jue! Slap that phat ass, nigga.” Mar was like a kid in a candy store. He knew Meeka didn’t want him in the strip club, so he was enjoying the moment.
Juelz started throwing money, slow at first, letting it rain all over the dancers' asses. But then something switched. He felt that hurt. That anger. An ache that liquor and powder couldn’t fix. He thought about how long he had been separated from Tasha, and he snapped. He started thumbing through the stacksof cash in his pockets, separating the bands. He was separating the one-dollar bills from the larger bills.
He leaned forward, eyeing Cali’ Rack as Kane and Mar tossed money at her as she stood clapping her cheeks to the music, while cupping her breasts.
“Bend it on down, put your face on the floor
Fuck that shit ‘til your legs can’t stand
