Bachelor Party Pt. 1

Peanut

“Can you believe I get married in three weeks, Dub? To a bi-woman that’s not Tati?”

Rico lowers his head to smirk at me in my office. “Were you seriously about to call Dallas a bitch, brodie?”

“Maaaan,” I start. “It was a slip of the tongue. Besides, Choc like it when I be calling her my nasty bitch.”

Rico shakes his head at me like he always does. Like he’s any better.

Too $hort is his favorite rapper for a reason.

“Anyways,” I continue, straightening up my desk. “I’ve come a long way, if I do say so myself. COO of a thriving company–check. Doting father of a beautiful daughter with sense and a cool ass nigga who can handle a ball–check. And in three weeks, a happily married man. My therapist said she proud of me. You proud of me, Ricky Ricardo?”

Rico’s smirk grows into a grin as he leans over my desk to dap me up. “Fasho proud of you, P. Dal’s a good look, but you pretty lit, too. Thanks to me and Fredo, of course.”

I slap his hand away, balling my face up. “You mean no thanks to Luney Tune. You niggas loved keeping me in bullshit, especially yo ho ass. Thank God the Marines straightened you out, or I wouldn’t have consented to you being my best man!”

He leans back, keeping them creepy ass eyes on me. The twins and I were in the same class growing up, so when I came back to the hood and seen Rico and Set was running the BBs, it was nothing for us to get back to ripping and running, causing mayhem and mischief.

Me and Fredo was close too, but not like me and Rico. We were like our own version of Reem and Ty, but as real niggas.

“I was always the perfect tiebreaker, brodie. Besides, if a lovely specimen ever tricked me into marriage, you’d be my best man fasho. Even if Fredo was here.”

Pressure builds in my eyes instantly. This nigga wanna be all genuine and shit, making us have a moment. I clear my throat and stand, grabbing my wallet and phone. “Now yo’ ass know I be liable to cry and shit ‘cause Choc got me in therapy, and you wanna drop bombs like that. Especially when I know yo too-player ass never gon’ get married.”

He stands too, and shrugs as he follows me out of my office. “You never know. Maybe a cold ass piece could trip me up.”

I roll my eyes and lock down the fort.

Tonight is my bachelor party. 

Why three weeks out? In case somebody gets injured, they got enough time to recover, ‘cause ain’t nobody missing my shit. Because knowing Rico’s psychotic and secretive ass, someone is liable to get injured tonight.

“Where we going?” I ask when we get into his whip. He also took me to work, and stayed with me all day, on his phone, doing whatever it is this nigga does to afford whatever lifestyle he lives.

“My crib.”

“Yo’ crib?! Since when do you have a crib?!” 

He turns out of the parking structure and into traffic. “Me and Ty got a condo. He be at his lady’s house mostly, so it just be me.”

“When the fuck y’all get a condo together? Why y’all never tell me shit?!”

Rico rolls his eyes like I’m the one keeping shit from him. “You be wanting to know such insignificant facts about us, brodie. Who’s fucking who, who lives where, who’s on whose life insurance policies. Your life is you, Dal, Denver, and Anaïs. Those are the people you know every single thing about, and that’s okay.”

“There was a time we told each other everything,” I grumble.

Rico cackles. “P, there has never been a time we’ve told each other everything. There are things you know that others don’t, yes, but neither one of us has ever been accused of being an open book. You just loud as fuck, but if you pay attention, you don’t be saying shit foreal.”

I hate when this nigga think he know me.

He smiles when I turn up the music, and leave him be. The air isn't awkward though. It never is with Rico.

He and I are two sides of of the same fucked up coin. Always have been, even as bad ass lil’ kids fucking shit up at Elm Street Elementary. I can vibe with the nigga to music, just like I can step on niggas with him and Ty on either side of me, and be at my most comfortable.

His condo is in a cool neighborhood. I spot Set and Reem’s whips when we pull up, and excitement takes over me once again, doubling when I see our other homies’ whips.

All of Foe Dub came out.

For lil’ ol’ me.

Rico opens his front door and a cloud of kush assaults my eyes and nose, making me wave in front of my face.

“Got damn! Y’all niggas trippin’!”

Fade blows out even more smoke before he grins at me. “If it ain’t the man of the fuckin’ hour.”

Foe Dub used to be twenty of us. Twenty of the wildest niggas in the projects–and Autumn–that I trained from the ground up.

A few turned opp. Some, including my day one Fredo and my lil’ homie Sean, were casualties in wars. 

But through it all, my niggas are holding strong. G and Slime, half-Italian brothers that are Shad’s age, are shoving each other by the window. Pook, our homie who could win first place in a dope cooking competition, is in the kitchen with Ty, mixing drinks. Fade, Pook’s day one and Ty’s old basketball teammate, is on the other couch, smoking with Set, Turk, and Reem.

“Aww shit, y’all gon’ make a real nigga cry,” I bellow as I walk over and snatch the perfectly rolled blunt out of Set’s fingers.

My other hand takes the lighter from Turk, and I light up. I gotta calm my nerves for whatever I know Rico planned for us.

“Only you can get me out my kitchen, Dub.” G grins at me, dodging Slime’s hand.

Where Fredo and Rico never fought, all G and Slime do is box each other up. But even still, you come for one, you gotta come for the other.

“Aight, so you got us all together like we finna run a skit, Dub. We coulda met at Paradise,” Fade says before inhaling.

“Well, bitch ass nigga, we are finna run a skit.” Rico grins, fiddling with a remote that makes a projector come out of the ceiling.

“Now, why the fuck can’t we just get strippers and pizza and wings and shit? Why y’all niggas can’t ever be normal?” G gripes, moving away from Slime.

“‘Y’all niggas’? Ain’t you the same nigga who be chopping niggas up to feed to they grannies and shit?” Shad says, coming from I don’t know where. 

I dap him up, keeping him close to me to look him in the eyes, but he shrugs me off.

He been spending hella time with Choc’s best friend Macy, but all of us have been kind of on alert since he had a seizure on stage, and I made his ass move into the in-law apartment at my crib after he called himself disappearing on us before that.

G grins, licking his platinum fangs. “Those allegations were unfounded. Look, it’s bad enough I got left out of the Best Man Games, when I feel like my specialty is the best. Now you’re telling me, instead of a normal bachelor party, full of naked hoes and good wings, we gotta suit up and run a fuckin’ drill? We just had to run up in the Birch not too long ago over Sincere dumb ass taking my best customer!” Everyone knows Brina’s favorite restaurant is his, Guiliano’s, to the point where he started making her custom orders when she went on bedrest.

“Nut don’t even like bitches like that,” Reem quips, making me mug the shit out of him.

“Exactly–”

“Fuck y’all–”

“Nut,” Set admonishes like he’s the big cousin.

Fuck these niggas, man.

“Anyway,” Rico continues, “bachelor parties should be catered to who is getting married. Personally, I would like a rage room bachelor party. Peanut gon’ be snot-nose crying in front of a hundred people, and the only way he gon’ be able to be okay with that, is if he can remember when he was on bunk.”

“Well who we even beefing with? The way YT stabbed that nigga O.E. and left him in front of the police station, I figured everything be copacetic.” Pook tries to hide his shiver, but it’s not a secret the nigga is scared of them crazy ass triplets that came from Northupton, Brina’s cousins YC, YP, and YT.

“High Tide Crips out of West Kenton. Specifically, Wavyy.” Rico clicks the remote and a long-range picture of this nigga Wavyy appears on the wall.

West Kenton isn’t necessarily all rich and bougie; I mean everywhere got a ghetto. But any gangs out of West Kenton are automatically lame–point blank period. You ten minutes from the beach, and you calling yourself High Tide Crips? 

Lame.

“What’s our beef with that nigga?” Set asks, rubbing his waves.

Rico shrugs, clicking the remote to change the image to a beach house. “Besides being born and being part of that bullshit set, the nigga took something from me. His number is up regardless, but they gon’ want retaliation, and some of y’all haven’t gotten y’all hands dirty in a while.” He cuts his eyes to Set, who mumbles something to a smirking Turk.

“Sheeit, he could have jay walked. You said his number up, so it’s up,” I say, rubbing my hands together.

“P-muthafuckin’-Nutty,” Rico cheeses, flipping to a screenshot of someone’s IG, showing a party flyer. “Today is Wavyy’s birthday, and the whole hood was at this AirBnb last night going up. Today though, it’s just his niggas, so it’s the perfect time to wipe ‘em all out.”

“This is a clarifying question,” Ty’s dumb ass says, raising his hand. “But, why exactly do we gotta wipe out the entire hood, if you only beefed out with Wavyy?”

Rico shrugs again, turning off his projector. “Why not, Ty-Ty?”

“This nigga,” Turk mumbles, but he know he TTG, so he starts standing up with everyone else.

“Pook and G brought two whips. Ty-Ty driving one and since it’s Peanut’s shit, he won’t be driving. I’ll be whipping the other one, and Fade will be on his bike.”

“Aw shit, Luney really back in action!” G cheeses, knocking his shoulder into Slime. Slime’s grinning himself, a rarity these days. I know he’s only here because it’s me, otherwise he’d be nowhere near any illegal shit, so I dap him up as we walk out of the condo and file into the cars.

“You been straight, Dub? You always be down right before the summer time.”

Slime smiles that fake ass politician smile at me, but I can tell he’s excited about tonight. “Even if I wasn’t, I will be by the end of the night. What about you? How you feeling?”

My grin turns sharp as me, him, Pook, and Shad slide into the blacked out Nissan Rogue with Rico.

“Sheeit, I’m war ready.”

TO BE CONTINUED