Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 4 (8 page)

Treacherous watched as male and female bodies passed by where he and Baby sat in the car. Tonight they chose to leave their bikes parked.

“You sure you want to try to get in?” he asked for the umpteenth time. In all honesty, he was actually the one who was not so sure. Crowds were not his thing and neither was the club scene. He had never been to one and didn't have the desire to go. It was Baby's idea. She had come up with an entire plan on how they would enjoy what time they had left on the streets.

They had been lying low ever since they had moved into their own place, but Baby felt like she was suffocating. Being in the mental institution had done something to her. She insisted they get out and enjoy some of their newfound riches in their home state before they up and disappeared from Virginia for a little while. She believed the club would be the last place they looked for her and Treacherous, considering they were not legally old enough to get into any of the top establishments. Baby knew that money talked in VA, so she was hoping it talked their way up into the hot spot that seemed to be full throttle already.

Treacherous and Baby observed from afar the flow of operation of the club. They saw how security controlled the two separate lines while club promoters checked groups off their lists and escorted them inside the hot spot. Assorted luxury vehicles and bikes continued to pull in and parked in the parking lot. Treacherous caught the name C
HANGE
L
ANE
on the backs of the vests of bikers as the social club cruised in. The drivers of a half dozen bikes pulled over and parked beside them while the rest created their own parking spaces. The passengers hopped off the back of the bikes. Treacherous and Baby watched as the group of bikers mobbed together and ignored the long lines in front of the club. They walked straight to the entrance. The huge security guard acknowledged them and unhooked the velvet rope from the brass rail, while stepping to the side. Another guard in a full three-piece suit appeared from out of nowhere and escorted them inside.

Treacherous's and Baby's attention was drawn to the females in packs with next to nothing on, strutting past. Most of them were applying lip gloss to their lips and spraying themselves down with their favorite fragrances, while dudes in cliques floated past rotating blunts, Black & Milds, and unfinished bottles of liquor before they reached the front entrance of the club. Treacherous and Baby exited the car. The weather couldn't have been more perfect that night. A light, warm breeze filled the air to complement the eighty-four-degree weather Virginia Beach was having.

Club Aqua in Virginia Beach off of Virginia Beach Boulevard was one of the places to be on the weekend. The old Virginia House of Comedy's Friday and Saturday nights were guaranteed to be jumping. Partygoers from all over came in droves to turn up at the nightclub. The storefront-style club's blue A
QUA
neon sign illuminated the top of the establishment. Treacherous and Baby rolled up to the front of the club. They both looked to the left and right of them. The VIP entrance on their left flowed steadily while the general admission line on their right moved at a snail's pace. Treacherous noticed someone staring at him. It was one of the club promoters with a clipboard in his hand. Treacherous matched the man's stare as he started making a beeline over toward him and Baby.

“Y'all got a table or on a list?” the club promoter asked abruptly.

Treacherous shot him a blank stare. “Nah,” Treacherous dryly replied.

“Is everything okay, Gov?” one of the bouncers chimed in. He and Treacherous were nearly matched in height and build. That still didn't stop Treacherous from directing his attention to the man and shooting him a rock stare. The bouncer instantly caught it.

“Is there a problem?” The bouncer stared into Treacherous's eyes.

“Not unless you causing one,” Treacherous retorted.

Baby was tempted to intervene, but she knew Treacherous could handle the situation. In her mind, she was already contemplating running back to the car and grabbing her and Treacherous's guns if shit hit the fan outside the club.

“He good, Big Junior, I got him,” the club promoter referred to as Gov interjected on Treacherous's behalf. The club was rocking too much to have it shut down over a frivolous pissing contest, thought Gov.

“Step over here with me.” Gov directed his words to Treacherous and Baby. “I can get y'all straight in if y'all doing bottle service,” he wasted no time informing them.

“Okay,” Baby answered for the both of them.

“Cool.” Gov smiled. “They call me the Ghetto Governor and I'll be taking care of you,” he chimed.

The sound of his name resonated in Treacherous's mind. For some reason, he thought he had heard the name Ghetto Governor before, but couldn't place it.

“I just need to know what package you want, two bottle minimum for where I'd like to put y'all,” he announced.

“That's fine.” Baby nodded.

“Big man, that's cool with you?” Ghetto Governor tried to ease what little tension there may have been brewing between Treacherous and the bouncer Big Junior.

“If she's fine with it, so am I.” Treacherous's words were straight and to the point.

“No doubt!” Ghetto Governor left it at that. “So, all I need is a credit card and your IDs.”

Treacherous and Baby both looked at each other and then back at him. “We're paying cash and . . .” Baby paused. “We don't have any ID on us.”

Ghetto Governor scratched his head and grimaced. The cash part was cool, but the no ID was a problem. He stared at the young couple long and hard. They each appeared to be twenty-one or older to him. He had pulled strings in the past for others from the hood to famous celebrities, but they were neither of the two, he thought. Ghetto Governor pondered it for a few more seconds and then said, “It's gonna cost you an extra two hundred each for the no ID.”

Treacherous let out an insane chuckle. Before he could deliver the words he intended to spew at Ghetto Governor, Baby replied, “No problem.” She had already pulled out the monstrous knot she had in her jeans pocket. “What's the total?”

“Whoa!” Ghetto Governor's eyes grew as they zeroed in on the wad of cash. He estimated the money to be $10,000 or more.
Maybe they are somebody,
he thought.
They can't be from the seven cities and I don't know them.
Seeing the money piqued his interest in wanting to find out about the couple though.

“We'll take care of all of that inside,” he explained. “Put your money away. Right now, I just need your names for the list.”

“Treacherous,” Treach was first to announce. Baby followed up with her name, but her words fell on deaf ears. Ghetto Governor was still trying to process the first name given by Treacherous.

Naw. It can't be,
Ghetto Governor reasoned with himself.
It must be a coincidence.
Ghetto Governor cleared his throat. “Young brother, I got a question to ask.” He paused. “And I mean no disrespect, but what's your parents' names?”

The question came out of nowhere, surprising both Treacherous and Baby. Treacherous's first instinct was to grab the club promoter by the throat and choke the life out of him, but something in Ghetto Governor's tone made him believe that there was no malice behind his question. Baby stood on guard awaiting Treacherous's reaction so that she could follow suit.

Treacherous looked Ghetto Governor up and down. “Why you wanna know that?” Treacherous asked. His demeanor was stoic.

Ghetto Governor could understand Treacherous's apprehensive and defensive demeanor. If the roles were reversed, he knew he would react the same way. He was convinced there was no coincidence in the names. Nor was it a coincidence that Treacherous acted the same way. “Man, if your mom's and pop's names are Treacherous and Teflon then we damn near like family!” Ghetto Governor chimed.

The mention of his parents' names woke something up inside of Treacherous. It was the first time he had ever met anyone who knew them. For this stranger to be claiming to know them piqued his interest. The club promoter's name resonated in Treacherous's mind. It now dawned on him where he had heard the name Ghetto Governor before. His mother had mentioned the club promoter in her journals. Treacherous knew his mother's journals practically by heart. Which was why it was easy for him to quickly reflect on why Ghetto Governor's name was mentioned. Outside of helping his parents out with some valuable information, there was nothing that would indicate that Ghetto Governor was like family, thought Treacherous.

Still, Treacherous had a newfound respect for Ghetto Governor now that he was familiar with his name. Once upon a time, he had helped his parents and for that Treacherous felt the club promoter deserved to be shown some respect. Treacherous extended his hand. Ghetto Governor embraced it.

“Appreciate what you did for them,” Treacherous offered with a firm grip.

His words caught Ghetto Governor by surprise.
How could he know?
he wondered. He knew he wasn't old enough to have known that.
He wasn't even a thought back then,
he continued, realizing Treacherous couldn't have even been born. He could tell Treacherous knew though. Ghetto Governor nodded. “No doubt, black man,” he accepted. “Let me get y'all set up in here, so y'all can enjoy the rest of your evening,” Ghetto Governor then bellowed. “Yeah, I'ma set y'all up real nice,” he added admirably.

Treacherous and Baby followed as Ghetto Governor led the way. “Jayski, they're with me,” he informed his management team partner as Big Junior unhooked the velvet rope.

It wasn't even midnight and Club Aqua was nearly at its maximum capacity of a thousand heads. DJ Jack Of Spade of 103 Jamz had the club turned up. Baby's hips swayed to the sound of Drake's voice while Treacherous scanned the hot spot as Ghetto Governor continued to lead the way.

“Shout out to the Jolly Brothers,” DJ Jack Of Spade boomed into the microphone. “They just got signed to Cash Money,” he announced. “And shout out to my mans Corte Ellis and DJ Boo, I see y'all baby!” he added. Just then, Rick Ross's infamous grunt came blaring out of the speakers.

The energy in the club was ridiculous. After passing other VIP sections, Ghetto Governor stopped in front of the section he intended to set Treacherous and Baby up in. The section was perfect, thought Baby. It was in the heart of the club, with a replica next to it. The U-shaped leather sectional was just what Baby had in mind.

“The server will be with you in a minute,” Ghetto Governor bellowed over the music.

Just then, a
Soul Train
line of sexy bottle servers trailing behind one another, with assorted bottles of liquor held high in the air, appeared out of nowhere. Sparklers illuminated the club as the six sexy women delivered a dozen bottles to the section right next to theirs. The section was overflowing with gorgeous women of all shades and dudes who appeared to be body builders, aside from one man in an expensive-looking suit who would remind you of the actor Joe Pesci.

“Shout out to all my bottle poppers,” DJ Jack of Spade screamed into the mic. “Dexter Reid, showin' that NFL love,” he added, referring to the ex–New England Patriot and two-time Super Bowl champion, who was responsible for the train of bottles the servers bought to the table next to Treacherous and Baby. Dexter Reid raised his fist up in the air toward the DJ booth.

“That's the owner, Steve.” Ghetto Governor pointed out the man in the expensive-looking suit to Treacherous and Baby. “I'm gonna go check on your server and then head back out. I got work to do,” he informed them.

Baby pulled out a few hundreds. “Don't forget the extra money for the IDs,” she reminded him.

“Naw, y'all straight.” He waved the money off. He refused to accept the extra money he intended to charge them for not having any identification. It just didn't feel right to him, knowing who Treacherous's parents were and what they had done for him. It was because of them that Ghetto Governor had enough money to pay off his home and put a nice chunk of money up for his kids' college tuition. Ghetto Governor reflected on the last time he had seen Treacherous and Teflon. After the caper they had pulled off that he had put them down on, they had dropped off a knapsack to Ghetto Governor with nearly two hundred grand inside.

“Like I said before, you like family.” Ghetto Governor returned to the present. He reached into the inside of his suit jacket. “Take this.” He handed Treacherous his business card. “If you ever need anything, I mean anything,” he emphasized, “don't hesitate to call me.” Seconds later, Ghetto Governor vanished into the crowd.

Treacherous pulled out his wallet and slipped the business card into it. He had gotten a good feeling about Ghetto Governor. He believed his words to be genuine and sincere.

Moments later, Treacherous and Baby's server appeared. She was beyond beautiful. They both noticed the girl's breasts protruding from the top of her tee, and her cleavage glistened.

“Hello, my name is Monae and I'll be your server.” The curvaceous server with a Hershey Bar complexion beamed with a smile.

Treacherous and Baby both nodded.

“So, you guys know what you'd like?” Monae the server directed her attention to Treacherous.

Treacherous pointed and directed her to Baby. This was all new to him. Neither of them were drinkers, but Baby was familiar with liquors. Most of her family drank, from young to old.

“Bring us a bottle of 1738 and bottle of peach Cîroc.” Baby ordered a bottle of Rémy and P. Diddy's popular vodka.