Charlie's Angel

club [short]

A/N: just a random short lol. 

Chris

"Babe, come on," I huffed in anxiousness. "You've been pickin' out shoes for the past thirty minutes. It ain't that serious, let's go."

"Okay, okay," she whined, waving me off. "This is harder than you think, Chris."

To pick out some shoes to wear in a dark-ass club that ain't nobody gonna see? Oh, word?

I ran my fingers through my curls a few times and loosely pulled on my beanie. I wanted my curls to show, but they were lookin' a bit unruly, so I had to cover them until I could go get a trim the next day.

I searched through my gold chains until I found the one I was looking for: my diamond encrusted stopwatch. This nigga paid about seventy-five thousand for a few of my art pieces, so I decided to spoil myself. There really was no point in getting a stopwatch, but it looked dope as hell.

My art show was a huge success. There were other artists that came to see it because they had heard how good I am. A couple of them approached me about collaborating, giving me their business cards and exchanging numbers. I was excited, but I kept my cool demeanor. I think all of my pieces were sold, except for one, but a guy was comin' down in a few days to see it.

This is why we're celebrating tonight.

"Babe, I'm leaving in two minutes!"

I jogged down the steps to wait by the front door for her and scrolled through my phone to waste time.

It took twenty seconds for her to finally make it down the stairs, and when I looked up I licked over my lips at her. She looked fine as hell. "Damn."

She blushed a little and giggled, stepping closer to kiss my cheek. She wore some black leather pants, a bright orange crop top, and the all-black Jordan's I had gotten her. On her wrist was a gold G-Shock and her makeup was minimal. But she looked incredible.

I felt severely under-dressed in my jeans and plain white t-shirt with a pair of my Timberlands.

I kissed her lips briefly before looking her over again. "You tryna upstage me, babe?" I draped a jacket over her arms as I chuckled and opened the front door for us. "Damn, you look good."

"Thank you, baby," she murmured and walked ahead of me to the car. I stopped and locked the front door before going to my side and getting in. "I've only been to the club a few times. What am I supposed to do?"

"All you do is get wasted," I chuckled. "Get wasted and dance."

***

You could hear the bass of the club vibrating from all the way in the parking lot across the street. I paid for parking and held her hand as we quickly crossed the street to enter. It was kinda our party so all we had to do was show our ID and the bouncer let us through; we ain't have to wait in line for nothin'.

The stench of crusty-ass niggas choked us as soon as we stepped foot in. The air was humid with sweat from people dancing. Plus, there were too many black folk up in here. Half-naked girls—and not the good kind—danced with sweaty men; shit looked tacky as hell. Where the hell was they momma's?

"Chris," Charlie shouted over the music, squeezing my hand to get my attention. "It smells like piss!"

"Get a couple drinks in you, baby, you won't be smellin' shit." I pushed past people across the floor until I got to the other side with the VIP section. Bash, Sam, Diesel, and some other niggas were already there waiting for us. Their foreheads were already sweaty and Sam was fanning her face with a few napkins.