When Cupid got back to his truck, the fellas began asking him where Allen was.
"Jones said he wasn't coming."
"Why?"
Charles asked.
"He just said that we knew what his Friday nights consist of,"
Cupid
said keeping the true conversation between Allen and himself.
"Naw,"
Charles said,
"I'm going to get this nigga, he will be going out!"
"C, leave him alone, I'm sure he has a good reason for wanting to stay
home."
Cupid started his truck and the fellas were on their way.
"So Cupid, where we gon' start tonight?"
Gigolo asked.
"I was thinking about starting at the Century Club, then since it's
across the street, hit Savannah West."
"Yeah,"
Calorie interjected,
"then we can stop by Peanuts to pick up
the twizzlers."
"What the hell are twizzlers?"
Walter asked.
"You know,"
Calorie answered,
"twisted chicks, bisexual's."
"Man you would be into that shit,"
Walter responded.
"Yo man,"
Gigolo defended,
"that is some lovely shit."
"What?"
Walter asked
"Watching two Betties, not Butches, bump dripping wet pussies,"
Gigolo responded.
"I can't think of anything more beautiful."
"Whateva man,"
Walter said, "
you need to stop smokin' that shit."
Laughter fills the Ford Expedition, as the fellas reach the on-ramp of
the 405 freeway.
"Yo man,"
Charles said,
"put this tape in."
"Tape,"
Cupid said with disbelief,
"nigga don't disrespect my ride.
That shit don't exist. It's the age of CD's, nigga come of age."
The fellas rode in silence for a few seconds after the comment, until
Charles responded.
"Fuck you, you pretty bitch."
Again laughter filled the vehicle as Cupid reached for his case of CD's.
Cupid inserted a CD that he randomly pulled out of the case. When the
music came on, the fellas began nodding their heads and singing to the
beat of the music. In unison they sang:
"All I need in this life of sin, is me and my girlfriend, down to ride to
the bloody end, me and my girlfriend."
Soon they pulled up in the valet section of the Century Club, and with
Cupids rapport with the other owners of nightclubs, they knew it would
not take them long to get inside. They could see that the line was
normal, full of half dressed materialistic women trying to become the
next Mrs. so n' so, and ego trippin' brotha's trying to get what they could
from a woman without making her the next Mrs. so n' so.