King of Queens (a Nas Story)

FORTY SEVEN

Nasir | 10:38pm

I put Gia in an SUV and sent her back to the townhome. I didn't want her to witness what the fuck I was going to do when I saw Pac. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why this nigga had my name in his mouth.

Jungle and I took a separate SUV to the hotel that he was splitting cost on with some of our QB niggas from back home. They were loaded and ready to let off on Death Row. My brother was riding with me through whatever. No matter what was going to happen tonight, I was my brother's keeper. All of my brothers keeper for that matter.

I left the Versace set I had on at the ceremony on the bed as I showered and changed into some Carhartt jeans, a crisp white tee and cuffed my denim over my suede Timberland boots. I brushed my waves in the bathroom mirror and popped my fronts over my teeth. I clasped my QB chain behind my neck and let it hang.

"You got that shit for me?" I yelled out to Jungle from the bathroom. I heard my niggas cocking their glocks and magnums back. The clips were full from the sounds of things. "I got it right here, Nas." Jungle yelled as I heard him click my piece off of safety.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and stepped away from the counter. I walked into the bedroom where my niggas were spaced around the area. "Let's ride." I said to them as Jungle handed me my gun. I tucked it behind me and grabbed my black leather varsity jacket from the closet.

New York, NY | 11:34pm

"That nigga over there talking shit about you, God!" One of my QB niggas said loudly into my ear as the after party was going. I held a clear cup of Hennessy in my hand and took a swig of the shit before I got my mind right.

"Word?" I asked my boy. I looked down at my chain and then looked at the circle of protection Death Row had around Tupac as he was yelling into a microphone held by a journalist for Much Music.

"Word. How you want to do this, Nas?" He said as he adjusted his Carhartt jacket over his tool, trying his best to conceal his heat.

"Let him keep talking. We'll catch him after his show is over." I laughed as I took another sip of the Hennessy in my cup. I surveyed the guests inside of the party as they were dancing to the music provided by the DJ.

Jungle stood in front of me like he was a guard dog. He was ready to step to Pac on some grown man shit. I watched the man talk animatedly into the microphone with Suge standing beside him. A gang of niggas behind them all held picket signs that read Death Row East written above their logo.

I finished the rest of my drink and sat the empty cup down on the ground. I tapped my niggas as I walked by them and motioned for them to come with me as I cut through the crowd. Jungle was directly behind me, ready for all of the static.

I pushed through the crowd before they noticed it was me. They quickly moved out of my way and made room for my niggas to get through. The closer I got to Tupac, the louder and clearer his voice had become.

I pulled my pants up, gripping my piece with it so my pants weren't sagging too low and my piece wasn't any lower than I could reach, in case I needed to pull it. I listened to Pac's spiel as I stood behind the journalist silently.

"What can you tell us about this Death Row East thing?" The journalist with a foreign accent asked Pac. His medallion hit against his chest against his Death Row East shirt as he stroked the hairs of his chin.

"You believe in God?" He asked the journalist. "Yes." He responded nervously.

"Then, believe in Death Row East like you believe in God." Pac laughed a bit as he continued to stand high and mighty on his soapbox.