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Old Friends

Chapter Three

September 29th, 2001

Las Vegas

I must be crazy. What am I doing here? It's been almost six years since I've set foot in this city, and the nerves are still there, lingering just beneath the surface. I went from the safety of Paisley Park to the place where I almost lost my life. But I'm here to meet a friend, catch up, and shoot a music video. It's just... why does it have to be in this city?

Ring! Ring!

Grabbing my cell, I answer the call, impatience lacing my voice. "Hello?"

"Don't use that tone with me. What the hell are you doing in Vegas?"

"Girl, don't question me like you're my daddy. If you must know, I'm here shooting a video with Pac," I say as I slip my shoes on. "I'm actually about to head down to meet him right now."

"Girl, you should've stayed your ass in New York after what happened. I can't believe you got on a jet after witnessing all of that."

"Honey, what happened isn't going to stop me from living my life. I'm also not going to let being back in Vegas stop me from having a good time."

"Mmhmm, okay. Just in case, I think I'ma hit him up real quick. You know, to make sure he has nothing but good intentions."

"I'm not a child, Honey, and I damned sure was never yours."

"Whatever. Make sure you use protection. He's been all up in that nasty heffa Kidada."

I roll my eyes at her pettiness. "Girl, bye. You know me and Pac have been strictly platonic forever."

"If you say so. I'll call you later for the deets."

"Okay, sis, love ya," I say, hanging up.

Leaving my room at the Luxor, I have Tionne, one of Wayne Newton's bodyguards, right on me. Wayne has been a family friend for many years and graciously lent me protection while I'm here, which is highly appreciated.

We make it down to the lobby, and I spot Pac, surrounded by his entourage, flirting with a couple of hoochies. I roll my eyes and clear my throat.

That gets his attention real quick. "Bibi! Girl, bring your fine ass here."

Aggravation fills my entire being. "Pac, why do you have to talk to me like that?"

"Come on, Bib, you know I love you. Okay, y'all, I'm out. Have a good night off," he says, putting his arm around me as we leave his people behind.

Rolling my eyes, I hang onto his midsection. "Yeah, okay. So why were you over there flirting with those heffas?" I ask, mentioning the bimbos he was just chatting up.

"Those are god-fearing women of the Lord, Bibi. Don't even play me like that," he says, defending his ways with a grin. "Thank you for coming through, seriously. I know what you went through was fucked up, so it means a lot."

I roll my eyes. "Mmhmm. So tell me about this song, or better yet, when's the album coming out?"

"You already know how I do, Bibi. I got two movies coming out, one this year, one next year. Then a n**** has this album dropping in March..." he says, dancing around me with that infectious energy. "This one's going platinum too, I feel it."

His giddiness is contagious. I can't blame him—he's had a streak of good luck. Settled all his cases, no additional jail time. Once Suge went to prison, Death Row fell apart, and he was freed from all obligations. I swear he has a guardian angel looking after him. He'd argue that it's me. I mean, I was at that intersection with him after all. But that's a story for a later time.