Money Over Everything

Paper Chasers

Moette

Ever since I was a little girl, I always dreamed about marrying a really handsome guy and running off to live happily ever after. Then, I would be woken up abruptly, by my dope fiend mother or one of her disgusting boyfriends, and realize that shit was nothing but wishful thinking. Now, those dreams had been replaced by something far better that no amount of love could ever replace.

Money.

"Bitch, what is taking you so long," my best friend, Damaris, said as she banged on the door of the bathroom stall. "You keep taking all that time in there and the good niggas are gonna be posted up with these dry ass hoes. COME ON!"

I opened the bathroom stall door and took in my homegirl, wondering why she was in such an antsy mood. "You high?"

"That's none of your business," she huffed, her honey colored cheeks reddening. She would never tell me, but I know I hit a nerve. I waited for her to give me a yes or no reply and she finally succumbed. "I had a blunt with some niggas in the VIP section while you were in here taking a shit or something. So?"

"So you need to stop taking shit from these fake ass corner boys. You don't know what they be lacing their shit with," I warned her as I walked over to the counter and washed my hands. "You see what happened to Lester the Crackhead."

Damaris stared at me, her face deadpanned. "Did you just compare me to a crackhead?"

"I mean he was never the same after he smoked with them niggas from Marcy. He told me so himself."

"You need to stop talking to that crackhead. Something ain't right with his ass."

"You only saying that because he can't stand you. Enough about all of that, though, let's see who's in the building tonight."

Savannah's was popping as usual. All of the big names were having a good time, popping bottles and making it rain on the groupie bitches down below. I watched with mild interest as these desperate hoes bent down and picked up the money Lakeif and his boys were tossing from the VIP balcony. He spotted me looking at him and winked, which only made me push Damaris deeper into the club.

"Girl, we might have to cancel tonight; Lakeif is here," I said once we reached the bar. "That nigga is determined to make my life miserable by scaring off anyone that tries to talk to me."

"I told your ass not to give him no pussy. What you expect? He was gonna get a taste of your cookie and leave you alone? Hell no," she denounced, sliding into the seat next to me and signaling for the bartender to come over. "Lemme get two Incredible Hulks. Make 'me nice and strong."

The bartender, a fine piece of chocolate, winked and replied, "I got you."

"And you can have some more once you get off tonight," Damaris crooned, winking at him and blowing a kiss with those pouty lips of hers.

I slapped her on the arm. "Girl, stop. I told you to leave that weed alone when we're out. You be open for everyone. Damn."

"Ain't nothing wrong with tryna get my pussy played with. Maybe if you hadn't let Lakeif's crusty ass play with yours you would be in a better mood."

"He was my boyfriend."

"Just because a nigga got a title doesn't mean he's paid for it. You already know what Poochie would say," Damaris started, readying herself to quote our foster mother.

"Damaris," I groaned, "not now."

"'Cash rules and if you ain't got the cash then you ain't ruling shit.' Fucking peasant," she said, growing up her mouth like she had tasted something bitter. Her hazel eyes widened in delight as our drinks arrived. "Good, now I got something wash the name of that nigga out of my mouth."